


Déjame (sequel)

by Zxhir



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Dispárame, F/F, Love Confessions, Sequel, Zurena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:40:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zxhir/pseuds/Zxhir
Summary: “It’s bad.” She whispers, knowing that if she spoke louder, her voice would crack.“What?” Maca asks worriedly, not sure what she’s referring to.“The cancer,” Zulema clarifies, her voice a little clearer now, “it’s really bad.”
Relationships: Zulema Zahir/Macarena Ferreiro, Zurena - Relationship
Comments: 106
Kudos: 310





	1. Mienteme

**Author's Note:**

> !! This is a sequel to my one-shot “Dispárame” which you can find here: 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24844777 !!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments I’ve gotten, they truly make my day and keep me going! This one’s for u! x

It’s just past ten in the morning when Maca wakes up from the sound of cereal hitting a porcelain bowl in the kitchenette next to the bed. Zulema is already up, dressed and hungry. It’s impossible not to smile at sight of the brunette with a package of frosties in hand, 

“Goodmorning..!” Maca yawns as she stretches all the muscles in her body, that still aches a little from yesterday’s activities. She’s beaming like a child waking up on Christmas day.

“Morning, bed head.” Zulema replies flatly, opening the fridge to get the milk. The blonde throws her legs off of the bed and sits up with a huff. She watches the older woman struggle with finding the expiration date on the package before she gives up and decides to let her senses determine the age of it. Maca gets up. She never took her shorts off yesterday and decides to just throw a T-shirt on to complete her outfit. 

Standing just a few feet from Zulema, she’s surprised the brunette hasn’t even looked her direction yet so she walks up to her, puts a hand on her waist and leans in but Zulema is shying away. Maca freezes slightly. Did she do something wrong? 

“... _qué pasa?_ ” She frowns, 

Zulema wants nothing more than to hug the blonde and give her morning kisses, make her breakfast and ask if she slept well, but she won’t. She curses herself for feeling that way. She had done enough damage already. This should have never happened. The brunette shakes her head, 

“Last night was a one time thing.” She replies dryly, “it’s not gonna happen again.” Maca blinks before she scoffs in disbelief,

“Seriously?” She asks, her tone high pitched, “I know that you felt something too last night…” her voice softer now. Zulema just shakes her head and proceeds to pour milk into her breakfast bowl. 

“You _smiled_ yesterday. I never see you smile, not genuinely, not like that…” Maca says softly, eyes searching for a sign. Any kind of sign, really, but the other woman just scoffs, 

“Talk to me.” Maca begs. 

“I already have.” The older woman mumbles before digging for a spoon in one of the drawers.

“I mean properly. Tell me what’s going on.” She urges but Zulema just sighs aloud,

“Nothing’s going on. It’s a new day, back to normal, _vale_?” This is the first time she throws her a glance, 

“I can’t believe you… Are you kidding me right now?” The blonde snaps, tired of being played with as if her feelings weren’t valid, “What the hell happened while you were asleep?” 

Zulema shrugs. She’s in pain but it definitely doesn’t show and she’s aware. It’s intentional. It makes her look like nothing but an asshole, but it is necessary. Macarena deserved a new life with her baby and someone by her side after all of this, it’s just never going to be her and she needs to let her know somehow. Preferably without telling her she led her on and is now leaving her for good. She could tell her the truth, but pushing her away was way easier. Telling her she doesn’t _want_ to be with her would make things less complicated. She would be angry for a while but she would let it go. She would get over it. 

“Why are you doing this to me..?” The blonde finally sighs, desperate for a genuine answer,

The question hits a nerve. The brunette stops chewing for a moment but decides not to answer despite the urge. She squints her eyes and purses her lips, the way she does when she’s thinking, and it makes Maca growl frustratedly. She’s starting to understand that she won’t get an answer. 

It’s quiet for a few minutes, though they feel like a lifetime. Zulema finishes her breakfast and Maca walks over to start making the bed in an attempt to get something else on her mind. Her heart is aching and there’s a lump in her throat that she refuses to acknowledge. She succeeds to make the bed, but not control her thoughts and soon, realization hits her,

“It’s the cancer, isn’t it?” She says. Zulema goes a little rigid, keeping her eyes on the dishes in front of her, “You think I deserve better…” she’s saying it as if it all makes sense, but only Zulema knows just how _much_ it actually does. She lets out a bitter chuckle and it tells Maca enough to know she’s right. 

“I’m aware it is there, Zulema,” Maca soothes, “But we have time, years if the treatments work as they should! You’re still free from symptoms so let’s not focus on the bad just yet.” She’s about to approach the older woman when she takes a step back and inhales sharply, holding her hand out towards her as if to block the way, 

“No.” She states, “This is just not the kind of relationship we have, remember?” Her eyes are now glaring into the ones in front of her.

“Well,” Maca says under hear breath, “that kind of changed yesterday, didn’t it?” 

“No.” Zulema says again, “I told you, _nothing_ changed.”

She can see that something breaks behind the eyes of the blonde. It hurts to watch, yet the expression she gives in return stays cold as stone. It could be worse and that is what she’s trying to prevent. 

“I know you’re lying.” Maca whispers, her voice on the verge of a cry. Zulema shakes her head, again. 

“You know I’m not.” Zulema mutters coldly and puts the clean plates and cups in the cabinet just above her, seemingly careless about the pain the blonde is expressing. 

“Neither of us have all the time in the world, why waste it like this?” She pleads,

“You’re the one wasting my time right now, _Rubia.”_ Zulema snorts. 

Macarena has had enough. 

“ _Vale,_ ” she spits, “It’s not like I expected more of you.” She steps outside and just as she slams the door, Zulema recklessly throws the fragile bowl into the sink where it cracks on the middle. 

Macarena spends the rest of the day exercising, reading books on the couch and doing laundry. Her own laundry. Zulema spent her afternoon on the roof, lost in thought while picking stones out of her boots. They didn’t say a word to each other for hours. Macarena had seen the broken porcelain in the kitchen when she came back from the walk she took to calm her nerves and realized that Zulema was just as hurt as her. She just didn’t know how to solve it. She tried, she really did, but the brunette kept pushing her away. She knew she wasn’t the victim, though. Even though it sometimes felt like that, Zulema had cancer and she had no idea what that must be like. 

She always acts like whatever happens to her isn’t a big deal but Maca has seen her cry, she has seen her vulnerable and she has seen her scared. She knows that Zulema isn’t the sociopath she claims to be. She just wishes that she would share more of who she really is and the way she feels. Surely that would help both of them.

Zulema, who’s still in a deckchair on top of the van even though the sun has set, decides to pick up her phone and dial a number she’s had on her mind for some time. There’s someone she misses immensely. Someone she hasn’t talked to since right after she got out of prison...  
  


” _Zuleeeee!”_ Saray exclaims when she finally picks up. It puts a very needed smile on Zulema’s face, ”My scorpion, are you kidding me, it’s been _ages_!”

” _Gitana..!”_ She smiles, ”I know, I know. Unforgivable. What’s the latest? How are you doing?” 

”Girl, I’m working at a tiny little hamburger place and my hair smells like grease twenty four seven… _and_ Estrella just started to learn how to walk. I don’t think you can beat that.”

“Wanna bet?” Zulema husks,

“Sure do.” Saray replies confidently.

“I’ve spent the last two years living together with Macarena… In a caravan.” 

Saray howls,

“A _caravan?_ That means y’all sleep together too, right?”

“No! I mean, it happened once but we’re not—” Zulema gets cut off mid sentence,

“You—, wait…” Saray gasps,

In that moment, Zulema realizes that Saray had meant sleep as in actual sleep, and not the way she just interpreted it...

“Ahh shit… _”_ she grumbles to herself and rubs her temple as Saray starts going off,

“ _You guys are_ **_fucking_ ** _?! Holy sh—“_

“Saray...“

“ _Macarena…_ _y tú?!_ _Madre mia—”_ She exclaims, so loudly Zulema has to take the phone off her ear.

She lets her go on about it on the other end, there was no use in trying to make her shut up. This was the biggest news she’d heard in a while, clearly.

“I literally can’t _believe_ you got together with _Rubia_ of all people, are you kidding me, this is crazy!!” Saray hysterically laughs,

“ _Vale, vale, vale…_ ” Zulema mutters, cutting the other woman off. 

“So what’s she like? A pillow princess? Cuz that’s what I’ve always taken her for…”

“Saray, _por dios_ , _callate ..!”_ Zulema moans, ”I need to tell you something…” 

“Oh my god, congratulations! Is it a boy or a girl?” 

“Hilarious…” Zulema mumbles dryly while Saray just laughs, “No, I’m being serious.” Her voice a little quieter than usual,

”Eh? _Qué pasa?”_ Saray suddenly realizes there is actually something going on. 

She wants to just tell her. Saray is the closest to a best friend she’s ever had and she deserves to know. She knows that she would have wanted to know. But she’s starting to doubt it’s a good idea because what difference would it make? She doesn’t want pity and she doesn’t want to cause Saray any pain, so why tell her she’s got a cancer that’s incurable? 

” _Zulema?”_ She urges with that gypsy accent of hers. 

”I just miss you.” She says, eventually. She couldn’t bring herself to tell her. It just wasn’t worth it. 

“Are you serious? That’s it!?” Saray asks, on the verge of upset, “Don’t scare me like that!” Always yelling, on and off the phone. 

“I want to see you. Why don’t you come visit soon?” Zulema suggests,

“I’m busy all summer, Zule… I really wish I could but it will have to wait.” She sighs, “But I promise you, once we get together again, no one will be safe!”

The brunette sucks on her front teeth the way she does when something bothers her and a hot tear rolls down her face. 

“ _Vale… bueno,”_ and a strained chuckle is the only thing she manages to force out of her throat. 

Okay, _chica,_ I gotta go or my boss is going to kill me.” Saray complains, ”I miss you too. And ay… _tú.”_

A corner of Zulema’s mouth curls.

” _Tú.”  
  
_

And with that, they hang up. Then there is silence. 

Zulema looks up at the stars twinkling above her head. She made a lot of selfish decisions throughout her life and she’s starting to see why. 

She had been weak. She couldn’t handle suffering only for someone else to get the chance to live in sweet oblivion or for someone else to have the better out of a situation. She was so narcissistic, people would not even bother caring about her and she had always believed that _they_ were the problem. If she wanted something, she got it. When she felt like doing something, she did it. She never once thought about other people’s feelings or lives, until she fell ill. 

She had just made one of the most selfless acts she had ever done in her life and now she was never going to see Saray again. Was it worth it? Was it the right thing to do? She honestly wasn’t sure. But she knew for sure that anyone else mattered more than her now, because no matter how much pain she may incur, it would at least not last long. She could just take it all to the grave with her. After all it’s only fair, after all that she had done. 

It’s getting late. Macarena has gone to collecting the last, clean shirts and Zulema takes the opportunity to climb down and get back inside since it’s starting to get chilly outside. She takes a seat by the table and pulls tissue from the tissue box next to her. Slowly, she starts pulling it apart, string after string make up a little pile on top of the table. She’s counting the minutes. Counting them down. 

It doesn’t take long before the door opens back up. Maca pauses for a moment as she finds the brunette on the couch,

“Hi,” Maca mumbles as she steps inside the van. Zulema looks up from the little napkin she’s been shredding to pieces for the past ten minutes,

“Hey…” Her eyes shift back to the paper, and so does Maca’s,

“What are you doing?” She asks and sounds genuinely confused. Zulema just shrugs. Maca sighs, “Anyhow, I was thinking…” she starts, “Next year—“ 

Suddenly Zulema drops everything she’s holding, her features scrunch up in agony and she gets onto her feet. Maca stays quiet.

“I don’t want to hear it.” She exclaims, but there’s something wrong with the way she says it. Maca has heard that sentence several times coming from the brunette, but never with this tone; never drenched with pain. 

“What..?” She asks carefully,

“I don’t give a shit about next year!” She growls and Maca is actually quite taken aback. She hadn’t even said anything about it yet, “I don’t care about you, your baby or anything that happens after this. I’m not going to be there and I have already told you.” Her voice is dark and malicious but it’s trembling towards the end.

In reality, Zulema just couldn’t stand to hear about _anything_ the blonde was going to do after she’s gone. Especially not the good things. The exciting, the fun… especially not her baby. She was almost growing desperate for her own life to end only for the pain to end with it. She couldn’t handle it. 

First Saray, now Macarena. She couldn’t do it. 

The cancer, or fact that she was dying didn’t pain her but knowing that people who cared about her would have to live with a pain she never intended to cause, pained her. Ironic how her specialty used to be inflicting pain and now all she wants is to be able to die without it affecting anyone else. Twisted how she never had anything to lose and now all she wants is to be able to live the rest of her life without feeling like she’s losing _everything_.

Maca doesn’t say anything and her eyes won’t let the brunette go, because she knows that if Zulema becomes the one to break the eye contact, something’s up and she was going to find out what.

Zulema’s eyes shift focus almost immediately and there’s no doubt that something serious is going on. She even turns around, as if she doesn’t want the blonde to look at her. Maca steps up to her and puts a hand on her upper arm. But as soon as she can feel the fabric beneath her fingertips, Zulema grabs her wrist and spins around. They’re just an inch away from each other’s faces and dark eyes are burning with fury. 

“What do you want? _Huh?_ A fight?” She she hisses, her voice low and her breathing shallow,

“I want to understand.” She answers, not afraid of Zulema anymore. Zulema was the one who was afraid. She knew it and she would take advantage of that if necessary,

The older woman takes a deep, wavering breath. Macarena wasn’t going to let it go. This was going to pain her even more if she chose not to tell her than if she did. 

“ _Vale,_ ” She whispers and lets go of her, “I haven’t been honest with you.”

Macarena is all ears.

“I like you. You know I do. I hate myself for trying to make you believe otherwise…” she admits and her gaze falls to the floor, “It’s just that—“ 

Macarena watches her struggle, but doesn’t say anything, too afraid of making her change her mind now when she’s about to open up. 

Zulema pinches the bridge of her nose. Never in her life would she have thought she’d be holding tears back in front of another person while telling them about something that’s her business and hers only. It was as if... it wasn’t only hers anymore. As if this concerned someone else as well. She was holding back because this cancer, that she had learned to accept already, that was nothing but her destiny, now was someone else’s destiny as well. Someone else’s pain. Her cancer had become not only her enemy, but Macarena’s too. 

“It’s bad.” She whispers, knowing that if she spoke louder, her voice would crack. 

“What?” Maca asks worriedly, not sure what she’s referring to.

“The cancer,” Zulema clarifies, her voice a little clearer now, “it’s really bad.”   
  


The younger woman doesn’t reply, she just keeps looking at her, eyes switching between hers even though dark ones look elsewhere,

“I have pretty intense hallucinations… at times,” she explains, “that’s what happened at the party.” 

Macarena rememberers that party like it was yesterday. Zulema dancing around, putting them all in unnecessary danger and acting rather crazy in all honesty. Had that been why? 

“I—“ she hesitates, not sure whether she wants to pull Maca into her world of things only she can see. It would probably make her think she's even crazier than she actually is, “I see… myself, in those horribly yellow inmate clothes, mocking my every decision. Everything I do. All the time.” She hisses frustratedly as the memories come back and at how mad it all sounds. Maca frowns, not in a confused or judging kind of way, but sympathetic and concerned.

“Do you—” Maca interrupts and suddenly feels bad for interrupting, but Zulema’s soft glance tells her that she’s all ears, “Do you take any medication for it?” Zulema nods,

“ _Sí_ ,” she answers shortly “I’ve hidden them away from you.”

“... why haven’t you told me..?” The blonde asks and she actually sounds hurt. 

“I didn’t want you to think I’m insane…” she shrugs.

“I already do.” Macka chuckles, her smile is bittersweet and makes Zulema’s mouth curl slightly too, “But I’d never change that about you even if I could.” Zulema just huffs at that. The blonde is back at it again with the longing in her voice. Longing for a future that doesn’t exist. 

“As long as you’re healthy physically, you can still live a lovely life..! You know I’ll be by our side through this.” Maca tries, “Until death do us part, remember?” 

Right. Until death do us part. 

Every word is a knife to the brunette’s heart because she realizes that Maca doesn’t get it and she’s going to have to tell her, 

“Imagine what you could do with all the money we’ve—“

“ _Rubia.”_

The younger woman goes silent. 

“I don’t _have_ time.” She states, now it’s her turn to soothe. Face to face, Macarena is a little shorter than her. It always made Zulema feel like the bigger person in most situations and this was one of those. Maca looks desperate. For an explanation or for time? Zulema didn’t know.

“Don’t say that! If you continue the treatments, if you talk to the doctors—“ Maca starts, it’s just a ramble,

“There are no treatments. Never were.”

“What do you mean..?”

Zulema takes a deep breath before closing her eyes,

“I’m not getting treated. I lied.” She sighs heavily, “I don’t go to the hospital on Tuesdays… I go to Fátima’s grave.”

It takes several seconds for Macarena to process it all.

“Besides, it would be pointless anyway.” Zulema mutters,

“What do you mean pointless??” Maca shakes her head desperately. Zulema takes a few seconds to gather herself to be able to keep it together in case Maca reacts badly to the news,

“ _Tengo dos meses._ At most _._ There’s nothing they can do.” She blurts out, 

“... What?” Maca breathes and it’s physically noticeable that her words have made her heart start to pound, “Two... months?” the blonde repeats in disbelief, the brunette nods.

“Two _months_ , why haven’t you told me this, Zulema?!” She suddenly yells when realization hits her, running her hands through her golden waves, “por _díos—_ “ she exclaims as they come down to cover her face.

It’s starting to dawn on her how little time that actually is. She won’t even have had her baby by then. Let alone gotten her own life together. She never planned on staying in this caravan all alone, she just never thought that’s exactly how she was going to end up in roughly two months. She thought they had years. She really did, and now those two words keep repeating themselves over and over in her head. Two months. In two months, she wouldn’t even have a home or had time to get a job. In two months, this life would be over. Let alone Zulema’s…

“Were you just gonna leave me? Empty handed? Without a heads up? Zulema, I’ve got _nowhere_ to go!” Zulema just keeps looking at her, still not moving a single feature, “Did you think I was gonna be fine? Did you even _consider_ what I would feel? Please tell me that you’re lying and if you’re not, please Zulema, _lie to me..!”_ Her voice cracks at the end of the sentence and Zulema’s heart cracks just the same.

The brunette inhales sharply. She takes her eyes off the blonde to not get too emotional. Maca can’t read her and it makes her even more frustrated, which makes her lash out a little harsher than she intended to,

“You fuck me, you let me kiss you and then you’re just gonna go and _die_ , not giving a fuck about my feelings or my life, was that your plan?” She snaps, “You’re the most selfish bitch I know, Zulema. Always been, it never changed.” 

Zulema’s brows shoot up briefly while she’s still looking at the floor. That’s her only response. She doesn’t seem very shocked to hear that.

“This cancer of yours is pure karma and you _know it.”_ She spews, “You’ll die alone, I’m not doing this anymore!” 

Angrily, she pushes past Zulema and starts grabbing her things from the counter, hangers, lockers… before she kneels down to the floor, reaching under the bed. 

Zulema knows exactly what she’s looking for. 

“Where’s the money?” Maca grumbles as she goes through the, to her surprise, empty duffle bags that they put away right after their last robbery, “are you kidding me?!” She exclaims before the other woman even has the chance to reply. She stands back up, turns around and looks the brunette dead in the eyes,

“You’re unbelievable.” 

Zulema tilts her chin up, her eyes squinting before she sighs. She looks rather unbothered, but those specific little gestures tells Maca that she’s anything _but_. She doesn’t care, though. She _should_ be bothered by the fact that she’s taken all the money for herself and Maca should have known.

She grabs the car keys and and is just about to burst out the door when Zulema interrupts,

“You’re just gonna take the car?” She asks calmly,

“Yes. Yes I am. You’ve got enough money to buy yourself a new one.” Maca spits. Zulema chuckles dryly,

“Oh _Rubia…_ ” she sighs,

“I have a _name_.” Maca snaps bitterly and proceeds to open the door. But before she has managed to step a foot outside in the grass, Zulema opens her mouth another time and this time, she gets her full attention,

“You’ve got an apartment waiting for you in Madrid.” She says, “This whole year’s rent is paid so that you will have time to find a job. There’s cash in the cabinet above my side of the bed which should be enough to pay for medical bills and college for your kid. There are diamonds underneath the mattress—“ 

“ _What?_ ” Maca cuts her off. She almost looks startled, eyes switching between the dark ones in front of her, “Wait—“

“What do you think _I_ am supposed to do with the money?” Zulema chuckles ironically, 

Now when she thinks about it, Zulema had a point. She was dying, at rapid speed. She wouldn’t even have time to enjoy being rich. She just hadn’t thought of it until now since she always thought they were gonna have more time. She had been busy worrying Zulema was gonna steal it all for herself this whole time. That she had brought them with her on this heist to steal _for_ her. 

Oh how wrong she had been.  
  


Maca just stares at her for a moment, her gaze way softer than before. She has a hard time processing everything the brunette just said and once she succeeds, she simply can’t believe it,

“You wouldn’t do this for me if there wasn’t something in it for you as well.” Maca states. She felt a little mean for doing so after all she just said but she knew Zulema. There had to be _some_ kind of catch. 

“Of course not,” the older woman smirks, “It was mainly for selfish reasons, actually.”

Ah, there it is.

“Enlighten me.” Maca urges, 

“I wanted to spend time with you.” Zulema half-smiles with a hint of insecurity that she’s desperately trying to hide, 

Maca is staring at her again, as if she’s waiting for her to elaborate,

“... That’s it?” She finally asks, her voice gone soft.   
  


“Sí.”

Macarena is about to burst into tears. It all sounds too corny to be true coming from Zulema, but she knows when she is being authentic, she’s learned after all these years. It’s something she can sense with her entire being. She holds the tears back though and simply shakes her head. Twice. Her eyes are watering no matter how hard she tries to keep it together but she is _not_ going to let herself cry. Zulema suddenly laughs,

“I don’t know how it hasn’t gone through your thick skull yet, _Rubia_ ,” she says as she pokes her forehead, making Maca lose her balance for a brief moment, “But you’re all I have.” 

That’s it. A tear runs down Maca’s face. What she said was true. She knew for a fact that Zulema never really had anything or anyone in her life and even though she knew she had been the only one in her life these two past years, she just didn’t know that this was how she felt about her.

“ _Joder…_ ” she curses before embracing the brunette, who isn’t prepared at all for the sudden hug, “I’m so sorry…” 

Zulema carefully wraps her arms around the blonde clinging to her, accepting her apology without a word. Words aren’t needed in this situation. Words are rarely needed with Maca. She always knows. 

“Oh and—“ Zulema suddenly begins and lets go of the younger woman and walks over to the closet, opens it, and out falls something metallic and folded, “I bought you a pram while I was out buying the trampoline… you’re gonna need it. You can keep the trampoline too.”

“As I said,” Maca chuckles, eyes still watery, “You’re unbelievable.” This time, she says it with a wide grin across her face. Zulema scoffs and offers her a small smile. It’s like she awakens from daydreaming when she suddenly throws a thumb over her shoulder, towards the door,

“Cigarette?” She asks shortly and the blonde responds with a nod. 

They both step outside. The mosquitoes are a pain in the ass this time of the year but they do their best to keep them away. Mainly by smoking. Maca’s back hits the couch and Zulema half leans half sits on the table in front of her. It’s quiet. Zulema lights her cigarette, then tosses the lighter to the blonde. When the younger woman has finally managed to get the end to glow, her eyes dart up to look at Zulema and the smoke that’s trickling from her nose. She once again looks lost in thought. Melancholic thoughts. 

“It’s a girl, by the way.” Maca reveals, ripping the brunette out of her current state of mind, 

”A girl?” Zulema beams. She’s happy Maca brought it up despite what she said earlier about not caring about her baby, ”You better teach her how to fight since I can’t be there to do it!” Zulema threatens jokingly but Maca immediately realizes what’s been on the brunette’s mind all day and her smile drops a tad. She’s starting to understand that the reason Zulema has accepted her unfair fate long ago is because it’s the only thing on her mind, constantly. 

Zulema notices the change in the younger woman and tries again, “Or I’ll haunt you and teach her without your consent.” Her attempt to make the blonde laugh, fails. She smiles, but her eyes are filled with sorrow.

“What are you gonna call her?” Zulema then asks, to quickly change the subject. She didn’t want Maca to feel bad about the fact that she was dying. It was inevitable and something she was at peace with by now. The fact that Maca wasn’t, made her feel like her progress had gone to waste. As if there was still something to worry about. As if she left something, or rather someone, behind. Everything would have been so much easier if they just never got together; if they never kissed. 

“I don’t know yet,” Maca half-smiles, “I haven’t really thought a lot about that…” 

“Hm.” Zulema hums, seemingly lost in thought. It’s quiet for an awkward minute. Macarena isn’t sure if she should ask the question that’s lingering on her tongue but after gathering some courage, she decides to go for it,

“What made you choose Fátima..?” 

Zulema looks up. The question surprised her. Maca knew it would. The brunette removes the cigarette from her mouth and lets out a bitter cloud of smoke before speaking,

“I never named her that.” She answers simply and now it’s Maca’s turn to look surprised, “I wanted a different name for her.” her eyes are on the trees hiding in the dark behind the van,

“Oh,” the blonde tilts her head, “And… what was that?” 

It takes a minute for Zulema to reply. She looks bothered, as if she doesn’t want to talk about it, but something tells Maca that she would like nothing more than to talk about her daughter. The good, that is. The problem is that she keeps remembering the bad.   
  


“Noelia.”   
  


“That’s beautiful!” She reassures, “Why Noelia?” 

Zulema shakes her head and snickers, it almost looks like she’s blushing a bit, even,

“It’s silly, really…”

“Oh no, please..!” Maca insists. Zulema sighs,

“Because of my love for Christmas.” She admits, “It comes from Noël which means Christmas in French…” she bites her lip, slightly embarrassed. Maca just grins back at her and the brunette finally dares to look at her,

“So why Fátima..?” She asks carefully, knowing there was pain behind the reason, whatever it was.

“Christmas doesn’t exist in Islam and it was considered wrong of me as a muslim to celebrate it in any way… My mother refused to let me name her because of that. She chose Fátima instead and I didn’t have a say in it,” She bites her cheek as the memories come back to her, “I never wanted that name for her.” 

“I’m sorry…” The younger woman frowns. Zulema just shrugs.

“It doesn’t matter now anyway.” and the walls are back up. Maca sighs sadly but isn’t gonna try to dig more into it. 

Instead, she slowly puts the car keys on the table next to the brunette and just as they touch the surface, their eyes meet. It takes just a second before they both burst into laughter over how ridiculous their fight had been. Zulema isn’t even mad at the things Maca had said. After all, she had kept it from her, all of it, and she found out about it all at once. Anyone would have lashed out. Besides, she’s taken harder hits, Macarena can't hurt her that easily.

The blonde gets up and starts approaching the table. Zulema’s eyes are glued to her the entire time. She leans in and stops just a breath away from her face to search for a reaction. Zulema doesn’t move, so she leans in a little further, cups her cheeks and places a soft kiss right on her lips.  
But things _had_ changed since yesterday. There was a tension, a sadness lingering in their presence. It was like whatever they chose to do wouldn’t really matter, it was just a matter of how much it would hurt when all of this was over. 

Falling in love wasn’t an option, because Macarena wouldn’t survive that. Just like Zulema wouldn’t survive regardless.  
  


“Are you afraid?” Maca suddenly asks. She needs to know. 

“Of what?” Zulema’s eyes squint,

“Dying.” Maca says bluntly. It looks like Zulema is thinking for a moment, though she isn’t trying to figure out an answer to the question, she’s trying to figure out what she is actually afraid of. Because in fact, she _is_ afraid. 

“No,” she replies confidently, “Dying, no.” 

“Then what are you afraid of?” She knows. Of course she does. 

Their eyes are locked on each other. 

“ _No lo sé.”_ She half whispers. Maca frowns. How can she not know? “I guess I’m…” she starts but after a few seconds of consideration, she ends her unfinished sentence with a light shrug. 

“What?” Maca urges on,

“I’ve never had anything to lose, until Fátima came back into my life. I wasn’t scared of losing her… until I did.” Her eyes let go of Maca’s and her gaze drifts astray, “I guess I’m afraid of losing you too.”

Maca bites her lip, her eyes full of sympathy. She looks like she’s about to tell her some banal, positive truth to soothe her, but that is the last thing she needs right now. 

“I know what you’re thinking. I’ll probably not even know I’ve lost you once I’m gone, but that makes this the part where I lose you... When I know that I will; while I’m still aware. While I can still feel the pain,” Her eyes shift back to the blonde, “When I’m dead I will already have lost you. But I’m losing you _right now_ , Macarena and I’m afraid I can’t handle it.”


	2. Recuerdame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If I ever forget you,” Zulema suddenly utters, her voice husky, “will you remind me?”

The next morning is different. Macarena wakes up next to a sleeping Zulema and for some reason she can’t get the brunette off her mind even though she’s right beside her. As if she feels the need to savor every minute; every second that she’s still here because soon the spot next to her in the bed would be empty. 

She turns around, carefully not to wake her and throws her a glance. 

Her hair falls perfectly onto the pillow below her, her eyelashes are pitch black even without the eyeliner and mascara she usually puts on the first thing she does in the morning. She didn’t want Maca to see her without it. She felt naked and it reminded her of prison. 

Her mouth is slightly open and her chest rises and falls as she breathes. Maca moves a little closer. She knows she shouldn’t, but she cannot help it. 

Carefully, she traces a finger from the older woman’s temple, down her cheek, to her jaw and along her jawline until she reaches her chin. Zulema squirms a little, but she doesn’t wake up. Her head tilts towards Maca and Maca continues tracing her features. She doesn’t even care if she wakes up and lashes out at her, it doesn’t matter. This matters. Every little detail of her face that she can manage to remember, matter. 

Her finger travels from her forehead down her nose bridge, all the way out to the tip where she stops for a moment. Then she moves on, down the side of her nose, to her cheek and back around to her upper lip. She sighs, longingly and with a lump in her throat. Zulema closes her mouth and frowns slightly. Maca pulls back. Dark eyes slowly open,

“Goodmorning…” Maca whispers, a soft smile on her face. Zulema grimaces and turns to the other side immediately,

“Don’t look at me..!” She whines, her voice raspy from sleep. Maca giggles,

“Shy?” 

“I look like crap.” She complains.

“No you don’t.” 

Zulema snorts. 

“Stop it!” Maca laughs and wraps an arm over the brunette to pull her back around. She fights against it and Maca has to lean over her to gain more strength. The older woman still refuses and eventually she grabs her face. Zulema has no choice but to turn her head and look at her, annoyance all over her features. 

“Hi,” she smiles. Zulema just shakes her head and sighs, “You’re ridiculous. You look beautiful.” 

No one has ever said that to her before. Back when Hanbal was supposed to be the love of her life, she never got to hear genuine, sweet things like that. It was always “sexy” or “hot” and “babe”. The sweetest things they ever called each other was _“habibi”_ and half of the time not even that was genuine. Zulema’s gaze falls aside. She’s clearly blushing but won’t let the blonde notice. 

Maca gently traces the tattoo below her eye with her thumb, before moving over to the corner of her eye,

“You’ve got beautiful eyes,” she half whispers, “I’ve always thought so. Even when I despised you.” 

Zulema’s eyes are back on Maca. She doesn’t reply. She doesn’t know what to say. Thank you? No. She had no idea how to act in a situation like this…

“Cut it, _Rubia…_ ” she husks.

Macarena suddenly gets an idea,

“Wait..!” She grins excitedly and reaches across the brunette and towards the counter next to the bed. She gets a hold of the polaroid camera that Zulema got her on New Years eve and gets on top of her, one leg on each side of her waist. 

“What are you doing?” Zulema huffs as Maca starts the camera. Suddenly the flash goes off without warning, “ _Ahh,_ goddamn it Maca!” She complains and rubs her eyes. Maca just smiles.

“What did you do that for??” She grumbles, “Give me that! Throw that away.” She tries to grab the photo that’s currently being printed but the blonde holds it out of her reach. 

“It was just a test, _calmate!”_ She laughs, still moving it around to avoid Zulema’s grasping hands, “Lay still.”

“No way.” Zulema argues and puts her hand up in front of her face but Maca removes it and holds it down against the pillow next to her head as she leans in, camera pressed against her own face. Zulema squints her eyes open, looking straight into the lens and the flash goes off once again. She sighs. At least it’s keeping Maca entertained. The blonde leans in again, this time the focus is on her lips. The flash goes off before Zulema gets to protest. 

“Maca!” She whines and sits up, the blonde still on her lap. 

“What?” She beams innocently and puts the camera down next to them on the bed. Maca is just a little taller than the brunette when she sits on top of her and she likes that. She likes looking at her from this angle. 

Her eyes fall to her lips but she can sense that the other woman is holding back. 

“I’m glad you like it…” Zulema mumbles,

“What?” Maca almost whispers, and her eyes shift excitedly between dark ones in front of her,

“The camera, _tonta_.” Zulema sneers, though the corner of her mouth curls. She knows what the blonde is thinking. It’s obvious. She isn’t very discreet. 

“Oh..!” 

“Or was there something else on your mind?” She murmurs and Maca almost immediately blushes,

“No…” Maca mumbles. It’s clearly a lie.

“Well then,” Zulema’s hands suddenly wander up to the blonde’s waist and she watches with amusement how her bright eyes grow, “time for breakfast.” 

To Maca’s disappointment, the brunette throws her off of herself before getting out of the bed. She falls onto her back in the sheets on her own side, pouting while watching the brunette throw a big T-shirt on. She then walks over to open the fridge but just as she’s about to reach for it, she suddenly goes limp and crumples to the floor. Maca is on her feet faster than lightning and kneels down right next to her. She’s conscious and already struggling to get up,

”Hey!” Maca grabs a hold of her arms to help her sit up straight, “Are you alright?” She asks worriedly. The brunette puts a hand on her forehead,

“Stupid headaches…” she grumbles, “I’m fine, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure?” She frowns. Maca keeps her steady as she tries to get up, but she falls right back as her head starts to spin, “Hey, take it easy.” 

“I’m fine!” She snaps and tries to get loose from her grip,

“ _Tranquila,_ can you be still for _one_ minute?” Maca mutters as Zulema jerks herself out of her grasp. The brunette sighs and eventually gives in, resting her arms on top of her knees, “Where are your meds?” 

“In the second locker above the kitchen counter…” she mumbles and Maca gets up to look for them. 

Just as she starts digging in the cabinet, the older woman spots something yellow in the corner of her eye. She knows exactly what, or rather who, it is and isn’t going to look. 

“Forgot your pill yesterday, huh?” The voice is more than familiar. It’s her own, “Your memory will get even worse if you don’t take them, you know. It’s all a vicious circle.” The corner of her mouth curling in a mocking manner.

Zulema keeps her eyes on the back of Maca’s legs in front of her, refusing to even throw her a glance. She can hear her get off the bed, the soles of the white sneakers hitting the floor before she starts approaching her. Zulema’s heart starts pounding angrily as her imaginary self takes a seat next to her. 

“Do you love her?” She asks, looking at the brunette. Zulema isn’t prepared for that question and finally her eyes set on the hallucination next to her. She doesn’t reply though, just sighs deeply. The woman in yellow laughs, “A little too late, don’t you think?” 

Zulema suddenly throws a fist towards the woman next to her but her fist hits the fridge instead and makes Maca spin around in surprise. The brunette doesn’t even look at her. She knows that she looks crazy now when her double is gone and she realizes she’s been angry at nothing but air. 

“You okay?” The blonde asks carefully. She nods, “Here, take this.” She hands her a glass of water and her daily pill. The brunette almost snatches them out if her hands and swallows the pill immediately. She tries to get up another time, Maca grabs her arms to help her and this time she succeeds to get up on her feet. 

“Maybe you should rest some…” Maca suggest, clearly concerned but Zulema just scoffs,

“I’m not ninety years old…” 

“Oh no, you’re right,” Maca exclaims, “You’ve just got _brain cancer..!”_ She exclaims sarcastically and throws the brunette a glare. Zulema simply rolls her eyes. 

“I’m _fine_.” 

“Yeah you said that on the floor as well…” Maca mumbles.

“ _Rubia,_ I’m ten years older than you, I think I’m old enough to handle myself, _joder.._.” She grumbles,

“Oh well, suit yourself.” Maca sighs. 

The stubborn brunette walks over to the cabinet to look for painkillers. Her head is still pounding, the way it has been doing almost every morning the last few months. She didn't want to bother Maca with it but she was pretty sure she knew already. 

“Excuse me I just need to—“ Maca suddenly pushes past the brunette and out the door. It’s the morning sickness hitting her out of nowhere. Zulema laughs dryly, 

“Aren’t we a _mess…_ ” 

When she comes back in, Zulema has turned the bed into the seating area and puts something away in one of the lockers above her head just as she enters. There’s a pen still on the table,

“Were you writing?” She asks curiously. 

“No.” Zulema shakes her head briefly, “just organizing these messy lockers… We’ve got too much crap.” She sighs although there’s a hint of nervousness in her voice as she puts her hands on her waist. Maca frowns, but doesn’t ask more questions. She knows when to drop a subject by now. If Zulema’s first word is ‘no’, there’s no use in trying to force her to admit something that she doesn’t want to. Besides, it was not her business. 

She picks up the pen from the table nonetheless,

“Where do you want this?” She asks carefully. Zulema looks at it as if it’s some kind of evidence she wasn’t supposed to find and grabs it a little faster than necessary. Maca isn’t bothered. She throws it into the locker too, before closing it. 

“So,” Zulema sighs, “what do you want to eat? Something that’s easy to make, please. I’m not in the mood for cooking.” 

“Anything is fine, really.” Maca shrugs. She knows it’s the headache and the exhaustion that comes with her illness that’s the issue, not just her mood. She can blame whatever she likes, Maca always knows anyway. 

Zulema bobs her head and grabs some ingredients from the cabinets and puts them on the counter. Maca sits down at the table and looks out the window but notices after just a minute how everything is unusually quiet. She turns around and finds Zulema seemingly searching for something but then proceeds to just stare at the things she’s placed on the counter. Maca discreetly observes her from where she’s seated, concern creeping up on her as the brunette’s eyes keep switching between the ingredients frantically. 

“... You okay?” She asks,

“Yeah, I just—“ she rubs her temples, clearly frustrated, “I need a cigarette.” Before Maca gets to utter another word, the brunette is out the door.   
  


A few minutes later, the blonde peeks out to see how she’s doing. Zulema is restlessly walking around a bit from the caravan, throwing one cigarette butt to the ground before lighting a new one. Maca frowns. She leaps out of the van and carefully approaches her, knowing she probably shouldn’t care this much but she cannot help it. 

“Hey,” she starts, but doesn’t get a reply. She takes a seat in the couch next to her, “can I have one?” 

Zulema tosses the package her way without even throwing her a glance and keeps circling the same spot she’s been walking around for the past ten minutes. Maca lights is and throws her an eye. She’s clearly upset about something. Something that happened in the kitchen but she cannot for the life of her think of why…

“I can do it, you know.” Maca offers, “just tell me what you were making and I’ll take over from there.” 

“Do what?” Zulema snaps,

“The food.” Maca clarifies.

“What food?” Zulema looks at her and looks equally as confused as Maca at this point. 

“... The—“ Maca stops only to frown, “The things you took out of the cabinet, what were you about to make?”

Zulema just keeps staring at her for another second before she abruptly averts her gaze and continues smoking without answering her question. Maca keeps looking at her as if she’s still waiting for her to answer but soon realizes that she isn’t going to. 

“... You don’t remember..?” Maca asks carefully, slowly starting to realize what’s going on. It takes a second, then Zulema shrugs. It’s a confirmation. Maca gets up,

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” She shakes her head, her hand holding the cigarette is trembling out of frustration. The blonde walks up in front of her and gently takes the glowing stick out of her hand. 

”That one definitely isn’t gonna help…” she murmurs, before putting it out in the damp grass. The brunette takes a deep breath, “It’s okay.” She repeats. 

“Can you just leave me alone, please?” Zulema begs, her voice wavering, 

“Zulema, it’s okay, let’s just go back inside and I’ll make us something to eat, okay?” 

“ _Callate_.” Her pleading is a mere whisper and it breaks Maca’s heart… The younger woman is desperate for her to understand that she’s there for her. It may be corny, clingy and disgustingly sympathetic but she knew that she needed someone right now, whether she wanted to admit it or not. 

She raises a hand to cup her cheek but as soon as her fingertips touch her skin, Zulema roughly yanks a hold of her hand and shoves it out of her way,

“Don’t touch me.” She warns firmly. 

“Please, Zulema, let me fucking care for you for once—“ 

“You have no idea _, Rubia_ . You have no _idea_ what this is like.” Her face just an inch from Maca’s, “I’m going fucking _insane, Maca…_ ” Her eyes are watering despite her attempt to keep it together. 

“You’re not,” Maca desperately soothes, “You just forgot what you were doing for a moment, it happens to me all the time..!” It’s partly true, but she’s aware of that those moments are different. She knows that Zulema is quite literally losing her mind and she was right. Maca has no idea what it is like, she can’t even imagine what it must be like for her to know that her sanity is slowly wasting away… 

Zulema chuckles dryly as she shakes her head and lets her gaze float towards the sky. 

“ _Bueno,_ Rubíta,” she mutters, “Make some pasta before I forget that I’m hungry and starve to death… That would be kinda pathetic way to die, don’t you think?” a corner of her mouth curls and Maca can’t help but to snort at her dark humor. 

  
  


During lunch, Zulema mostly plays with her food, poking it around with her fork. Maca notices, of course.

“Is it bad?” Maca’s face scrunches up as if to apologize before even getting it confirmed. The older woman lets out a brief laugh,

“No it’s— it’s good,” she shakes her head, “I was just…” she gestures in the air, trying to say she was lost in thought. Maca knew that already. She smiles.

“What’s on your mind?” 

Zulema smiles but doesn’t reply. She looks up at Maca, who raises her brows to urge her on. 

“... I can’t remember where I put the diamonds.” She admits. Maca is actually glad she dared to tell her. 

“You told me you put them underneath the mattress… Remember?” 

“Right…” she whispers and keeps poking her food, “Problem is… I moved them when I unmade the bed.” She says, throwing an eye Maca’s way again and they both burst into giggles. 

“I’ll help you look.” Maca grins. 

It’s silent for a few seconds,

“Another thing…” The brunette clears her throat, suddenly getting a little more serious. She takes a moment to gather herself, “My daughter’s name.” She can’t look at Maca this time.

“What about it?” She asks, thinking she forgot to tell her something about it yesterday,

“... Never mind.” She blurts out, so fast it makes Maca confused for a moment, 

“ _Oh—_ “ The sound of realization escapes her before she has the chance to stop it and Zulema reacts to it and interrupts,

“I _do_ know it! I just—“ she shakes her head, clearly feeling both embarrassed and stupid, 

“It’s okay, Zulema. I get it.” She reassures and throws her a glance to make sure she’s okay. She looks lost. Like she doesn’t understand what’s happening to her and why she can’t control it, “Fátima.” She says.

Zulema nods as the memory comes back to her.

“ _Fátima…”_ she repeats quietly. She remembers. “How could I forget…” she frowns sadly before she grows frustrated again and puts her face in her hands, elbows on the table. 

Maca doesn’t really know what to say. Memory loss is one of the many symptoms you can get from brain cancer, so it shouldn’t really come as a surprise, yet it did surprise both of then when it appeared out of nowhere. She seemed fine before she fainted earlier…

“I wanted to name her Noelia, actually…”

Maca sighs and her heart cracks a little when she realizes that her memory is currently failing her completely,

“I know.” She says, her voice little.

“You know?” Zulema frowns,

“Yeah…” she mumbles without elaborating, “Hey, maybe you should get some rest.” Maca suggests, thinking it might be better when she wakes up. It was probably all the stress from the arguments they’ve had lately, let alone the intense orgasms that somehow slipped in between… 

“I’ll make the bed for you.” She says and gets up from the couch. Zulema protests as soon as she gets the chance,

“I’m not a kid, I can—“

“No,” Maca firmly cuts her off, “I said I’ll do it.” 

“Fine,” she sighs, “I’m gonna go have a cigarette…” 

“No, you’re not.” Maca says, her tone determined but gentle. If anything could make this worse, it was cigarettes. 

“Since when did you become my mother?” She growls, “You’re being ridiculous.” She heads towards the door nonetheless, but right before her hand reaches the handle, Maca grabs her arm and pulls her back,

“Give me that..!” She grumbles and snatches the cigarette out of her hand. 

“Are you kidding me?!” The brunette argues, “What’s your problem?” 

“You’ve got cancer, in case you forgot that as well.” She snaps, knowing she probably shouldn’t have said that but she’s starting to get enough,

“Who cares? I’m dying anyway…” she mumbles and grabs another one as she turns around, completely unbothered by the blonde’s sassy comment,

“ _I care, Zulema!”_ She cries aloud and it makes the older woman stop in her tracks. The caravan goes silent for a moment and she turns back around, removing the cigarette from between her lips. She doesn’t say anything, “Do you want to forget your own name too? Where you live? _Me?”_ Her voice is trembling. She was tired. Tired of her not seeing everything she’s doing for her and tired of her not giving a shit about her own health as if she has given up already. 

Zulema launches the cigarette and the package into the sink before cursing under her breath,

“ _Joder..!”_

Neither of them expected her to actually feel bad after just those few, simple words. But she does. She really does, because she knows she is right and she is so scared of what’s happening to her that she’s trying to cope by doing things that usually brings her a sense of comfort and peace. But smoking just isn’t _it_ this time.

” _Bueno. Vale…”_ She mumbles, “Are you gonna make the bed or what? If you had let me do it it would have been done by now…” 

Maca throws her a glare before lowering the table, locking it in place and rolling out the mattress. She grabs the pillows from the couch and puts slips over them before throwing them onto the bed. The blankets are rolled up inside a locker above her and she has to get up on the bed to reach them. Once she’s done, she points at the bed with her whole hand,

“There you go, _princess_.” Zulema rolls her eyes and pulls the T shirt over and off her head. Maca’s eyes wander down the brunette’s back. She knows she shouldn’t look at her this way, but it’s been hard not to since that night two days ago. The urge to reach out and trace her spine with a finger is palpable, but she doesn’t, obviously. 

It felt strange. All of this. Her being pregnant, knocked up by some one night stand she accidentally ended up waking up next to after a night out, now craving someone who she’s hated for several years. Someone who’s dying, while she’s about to give new life. She wishes she could change the fact that she’s taken quite a liking to the brunette, because she knows how this will end. She knows that this in fact _has_ an end, so why these feelings? Why this pointless desire? 

She keeps watching as her pants fall to the floor along with her belt and chain, and her eyes can’t help but roam all the way down. She inhales sharply and abruptly averts her gaze before she goes crazy or gets caught. She only made things worse for herself by gawking. 

Zulema drops down onto the bed, pulls the comforter over herself and proceeds to stare at the ceiling. Her head is buzzing. It always is, but it’s been getting worse lately. She feels quite normal, like nothing has changed, but when she tries to remember something that she’s known all her life but can’t, she realizes that something indeed has changed. Something isn’t quite right. And it does scare her.

She had always had a hard time imagining a scenario like this; one where she’s scared, because for a long period of time, she thought she was fearless. She could handle losing people, things, places while being locked up and memories that fade eventually, but when you lose your mind, you lose it _all_. 

Cancer wasn’t something that was going to happen to her. It was something that happened to others, not her, she thought.

All the thinking makes her twist and turn. 

She starts silently repeating all the names of the inmates at Cruz del Norte that she can remember and then proceeds to count the guards as well. She goes through her last escape attempt in her head, remembering every detail, the whole plan. She remembers where she put the cereal this morning. She remembers that the milk was fine, it hadn’t expired. She even remembers what she forgot earlier.

She turns back around. This is making her antsy.

She remembers the damned polaroid camera that she almost regrets buying. She clearly remembers the night two days ago. How could she forget? She obviously remembers _Rubia._

 _Rubia?_ That isn’t her name… 

A lump is suddenly starting to build up in her throat. _Rubia. Rubia, Rubia…_

She can’t remember. 

“... _Rubia?”_ It almost comes out as a whisper as she calls for her. 

“ _Sí?_ ” Maca responds, currently decorating the bottom of a cupboard with little postage stamps. Zulema hesitates for a second. What she was about to ask for was not like her and she knew it,

“Could you… lay here with me for a moment?” 

Maca throws an eye Zulema’s way. She’s curled up, not in the best condition and looks rather lonely. She doesn’t reply, but walks over and carefully sits on the edge of the bed before laying down on her side. There’s a gap between them, like there usually is, but for some reason it seems to bother the brunette this time,

“ _Could you please hold me?”_ This time it _is_ a whisper. 

Maca is a little taken aback by her question. She’s happy Zulema has finally managed to bring herself to ask for affection when she needs it but she’s not sure why and it worries her slightly. She sneaks an arm over and around her, but doesn’t really dare to hold her properly. Perhaps it was survival instinct, knowing that back in the days, this would have been a trick. 

Zulema isn’t content with her shy manners though. She clutches the blonde's arm and presses it tight against her chest, forcing her to embrace her the way she needs. Maca goes a little ridgid as she does so but it doesn’t take long before she loosens up a bit and moves closer. She moves her hair out if the way with her face before placing her chin on her shoulder; cheek against her neck. 

“If I ever forget you,” Zulema suddenly utters, her voice husky, “will you remind me?” 

Maca frowns,

“You won’t forget me, I’ll make sure of it.” She chuckles quietly. The older woman doesn’t respond, “... why?”

“If I don’t remember even though you remind me, will you tell me about yourself?” She asks,

Maca pushes herself up to lean onto her elbow, looking down at the woman next to her on the bed. She wants to ask why she’s asking her this but deep down she already knows the answer to that. She wants to reassure her of that it won’t come to that, but she cannot promise her something she doesn’t know. 

“Has something happened?” She aks, knowing something must have triggered her to start this conversation. She doesn’t reply. “Zulema?” She urges,

“ _Rubia…_ ” she mumbles dreamily, “ _Rubia_ isn’t your name.” 

Maca takes a deep breath and nods understandingly.

  
She forgot her name.

“No,” she murmurs, “No, it’s not…” she picks up a black strand of hair resting on the pillow and starts playing with it. Zulema actually finds it comforting. 

“Do you remember your own?” Maca asks carefully, 

“ _Sí,”_ she says, “ _soy el puto elfo del infierno.”_ A smirk now creeps up on her face and Maca cannot avoid laughing at that. They both just smile in silence for a moment, before the brunette speaks again,

“... Zulema.” She husks, “Zulema Zahir.” 

“Maca,” the blonde says, “Macarena Ferreiro. Nice to meet you.” she teases, knowing Zulema’s type of humor.

Zulema just chuckles and shakes her head. 

“I knew that,” She scoffs sarcastically, “I was just testing you.” 

In that moment Zulema knew that this would have to end before it gets worse...


	3. Respóndeme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW /// Mention of rape.
> 
> ...“What even is love?” Zulema scoffs dryly, it’s more of a statement than a question and she’s not expecting an answer but Maca turns to look at her. Her little ear peeking out of her neat, pitch black hair and the tattoo in matching color. The teal below her eyes and the cigarette between her lips. 
> 
> “It’s…” Maca starts when she has finally taken her eyes off her. Zulema looks at her...

They stay up late that night. They talk, they go out for cigarettes every now and then. They laugh, they sit in silence at times and they yawn every once in a while. Zulema can’t sleep. She’s scared that things will be worse when she wakes up tomorrow. Maca, on the other hand, is tired but wants to savor every minute remaining with the brunette and she kind of hopes she doesn’t know. It’s just so ridiculously tragic.   
  


“What are you thinking about?” Maca asks absentmindedly, playing with the lighter in her hand. Zulema turns her head and looks at her, 

“Anything I can remember before I forget it.” she mumbles, though a small smile forms on her face, “You never know what tomorrow brings.”

”Why don’t you tell me about something? Anything really,” Maca suggests, ”That might help refreshing your memory?”

“... What would you like to know?” The brunette cocks a brow. Maca shrugs, 

“I don’t know…” she mumbles before she is hit with something she’s been wondering for a while, “You say you’re not afraid of dying, but have you ever been really afraid of something else?”

Zulema chuckles lowly and tries to think of something relevant enough to tell her,

”You know…” she mutters eventually, ”I was never mad at you for almost killing Hanbal in the woods that time in prison. I was just mad that it was you, because I wanted to kill him myself.”

Maca raises her eyebrows slightly in surprise.

”When we met, he was twenty and I was thirty two,” she starts, ”We had a pretty complicated relationship. We were smart, reckless and free, and we needed each other kind of the same way we do…” 

Maca frowns, intrigued by the story already,

“He wanted us to be in a domestic relationship. I didn’t really care so I let him have it. I was his girlfriend because he wanted me to. Whatever, _no?_ ” She digs up a pack of cigarettes from her pocket and lights one before she continues, “We kissed, we held each other just like couples do, but we never had sex. Since he, just like I am, was muslim I blamed it on our belief. I said I didn’t want to have sex before marriage but in reality I just didn’t like the thought of someone having that kind of control over me or seeing me vulnerable. Besides, I didn’t need a man to please me.”

The blonde knew this about her even though she had never really said it out loud and it still surprised her that she had let her, of all people, actually get inside those walls. Her eyes are on the cigarette as she speaks. She wants to snatch it away from her but she has a feeling she actually had legitimate reason to smoke right now. 

“But he got fed up with it, after a couple of years. I think he saw right through my lies to be honest. I was a real _hija de puta_ at times. I treated him as if he was of no use to me unless he could get me money… And as soon as he wanted something from me, and not the other way around, I lied and manipulated him. One night, when we were fighting about me not letting him in, he grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up against a wall. He had never been violent with me before so I didn’t quite understand what was happening until he started to pull at the hem of my trousers.” She inhales the smoke a little deeper than usual before she lets it trickle out between her parted lips, “He was frustrated, in every way possible and it was my fault, we both knew that. He was in need of affection, I wasn’t and he wanted me to know what being used for someone else's needs feels like.”

Maca squirms lightly in her seat. She had a feeling this would get ugly.

“He squeezed my throat so tightly, that when he forced himself into me, all I was afraid of was dying. Not of death per se but because I didn’t want to die in the hands of a man; having lost all my dignity, and I was sure he was going to kill me in that moment. He kept repeating things about love. Maybe to justify what he was doing, I don’t know, I couldn’t really focus. I saw stars for what felt like minutes before he was done.” She pauses to take another cloud of smoke into her mouth, “I didn’t die, obviously. But I’ve never felt so small my entire life like I did after that and so, to regain some kind of power and some of the dignity that I lost, I went and killed the man who took my daughter from me the next day. That’s how I ended up behind bars and I still sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if he had never done what he did to me that night, or if I just wouldn’t have been such a selfish bitch...” She drops the cigarette butt to the ground and puts it out with her shoe before looking up at Maca, her brows raised and lips pursed. The blonde cannot seem to find the words to respond. 

“I—“ she stutters, “I’m sorry. That’s… that’s horrible, Zulema.” She says under her breath, her tone full of sympathy. She wasn’t very good at this. She couldn’t really empathize since her own life before prison was quite perfect. Sure, it had it’s up and downs, but it was nothing like the life Zulema had lived. 

Not only did she have a hard time relating to her past, but her present and future looked rather bright as well, while Zulema’s didn’t and she couldn’t help but think it was all but fair. 

“That’s fear that I’ve only experienced twice in my lifetime. That night,” she pauses, “and now.” 

It gets oddly quiet after that. 

Maca grabs another cigarette. 

“Strangely enough, despite all that, I found a way to stay in contact with him from within the prison. I bought a phone and I hid it away in my room. I told him that I understood why he did what he did, but that was nothing but bullshit, obviously.” She snorts, ”I made him think that I was going to be better to him once I got out. I manipulated him into helping me find the money Yolanda had hidden in the forest and went on about all the things we were gonna be able to do together if he just found them…”

“Speaking of,” Maca interrupts, “Yolanda..?” 

“What about her?” Zulema husks, taking the cigarette out of Maca’s hand before finishing it herself,

“What happened to her?” She frowns,

“I killed her.” Zulema blurts out bluntly and Maca gets a little taken aback,

“Why?!” She exclaims, rather horrified, “Why would you do that?” 

“Because I needed the money,” she shrugs, “and I was desperate.” 

“You _boiled_ her alive, Zulema!” 

“I needed to get rid of any possible evidence,” she mutters, “besides, she was already dead by the time I did that.” 

Maca just glares at her.

“I’m not proud of it, _Rubia,_ that’s not what I’m saying.” She sneers, “You asked and I answered.”

“Gosh, you were a real piece of work back in prison…” Macarena mumbles dryly. 

“Oh I know.” The brunette chuckles, her voice dark. The blonde just shakes her head. 

“Well then, carry on…” she urges, realizing she wasn’t done with her story.

“ _Vale…_ I was planning on killing Hanbal too, once I had the money. But until then, I had to pretend to be the damsel in distress-girlfriend that he had always wanted me to be.” She grimaces, “I was always so nervous that he would find someone else while I was in there. Someone younger who would actually love him and make him see the difference… Because if he did, he would abandon me and take my money, and the cash was literally all I cared about.”

“Why..?” Maca asks curiously,

“Who doesn’t want money?” She smirks and cocks a brow, eyes on Maca as she puts the cigarette between her lips. The blonde doesn’t reply, she just lightly shrugs. 

“When your brother killed him, I thought I had lost both the money and my chance to escape and it hurt me way more than his death…” she shakes her head slowly, “I’ve never been in love. It’s just not my thing.” 

“Never?” Maca half-whispers,

“Never.” Zulema replies and their eyes meet. Maca nods and maybe, just maybe, she felt her heart ache a little because maybe, perhaps, she believed there was a chance that that had changed by now, “which I’m glad about because it seems like such a misery.” She laughs. 

Maca lets out a brief chuckle too, though only to conceal the slight disappointment creeping up on her.

”Yeah love definitely is… complicated.” she mumbles.

”Oh, right… You ended up in jail because of it, didn’t you?” She pulls air through her teeth, ”What a mess, eh?” 

Maca half-smiles. 

“That was different.” She says,

“Different from what?” 

“... Love, I guess.” She frowns, “I’m not sure he ever really loved me.” 

“What even is love?” Zulema scoffs dryly, it’s more of a statement than a question and she’s not expecting an answer but Maca turns to look at her. Her little ear peeking out of her neat, pitch black hair and the tattoo in matching color. The teal below her eyes and the cigarette between her lips. 

“It’s…” Maca starts when she has finally taken her eyes off her. Zulema looks at her, quite surprised that the blonde seems to start to actually explain, “It’s choosing to be with someone without asking them for something in return.” Her eyes are on the dark creek in front of them. Zulema listens attentively. 

“It’s not being able to get someone off your mind no matter how hard you try and remembering small details about them. What they use to wear, eat, or how they would usually do things. It’s compromising; being willing to give little things up because their happiness matters to you as much as your own, if not more. It’s, no matter how much and how many times you fight, loving them all the same.” 

It takes a few seconds for Zulema to process all of it and during those seconds, her eyes switch between Maca’s. Maca offers her a shy smile. 

“ _Vale,”_ her brows shoot up and she slaps her own lap, “sounds exhausting.” She replies shortly and gets up from the couch. Macarena sighs but shakes it off just as fast. 

Zulema enters the caravan and walks straight up to the cabinet to look for something to eat. She wasn’t exactly hungry, just in the mood to chew on something. 

Maca yawns, it’s possibly the seventh time by now and the brunette throws a glance over her shoulder,

“Tired?” She asks,

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.” She drawls, her eyes almost closing by themselves,

“Go to sleep..!” The older woman chuckles. 

“Why don’t we both?” She tilts her head but Zulema just shakes hers,

“Can’t sleep even if I tried.” She mutters and closes the cabinet again and turns around.

“I can make you tired…” she bites her lip and dark eyes set on her. She scoffs,

“In your dreams, _Rubia._ ” 

“You know it’s true.” She teases, “I took you _out_ last time.” 

“That was mutual.” She raises a brow and the blonde laughs as a tint of pink spreads across her cheeks. 

”Isn’t that a good thing?” She muses as she moves closer to the brunette by the kitchen counter. Zulema just huffs as arms sneak around her waist and nails start tapping on her belt, lightly playing with it to get a reaction. Zulema looks anything but amused, “Come on… It will cheer you up a bit.” 

She chuckles darkly, shaking her head before inhaling sharply,

“... _Bueno. Venga_.” She shrugs and it takes the blonde a little by surprise, “Fuck me.”

Maca blinks for a moment before stepping up to her, so close they’re breathing each other’s air, and snakes a hand into her pants. Zulema doesn’t resist but rolls her hips a little to give the blonde better access. The blonde doesn’t hesitate to run a couple fingers through her center. Zulema responds by simply chewing her lower lip, eyes still on Maca as if she’s waiting for a surprise. Maca inspects her face as she thrusts into her and as she does so, the older woman leans in. She presses their bodies tight together and lets out a sinful moan straight into her ear, that sends shivers of arousal down the younger woman’s spine. Then, to the blonde’s disappointment, she sneaks her hand in between them and pulls Maca’s hand back out of her trousers. She brings it up to her face and puts the two digits in her mouth, cleaning them off properly, making sure that the blonde’s sensitive little fingertips can feel every move her warm tongue makes. She lets them go with a pop.

“There,” She murmurs, before releasing her completely, “Enough for today.”

Maca doesn’t even know how to respond. She just stands dumbfounded where Zulema left her as she watches her walk over to sit on the bed.

“... Are you serious?” She whines as soon as she has regained the ability to speak, 

“Finish yourself then, _miss horny.”_ Zulema sneers and picks up her phone to play some music, 

“Oh, right next to you on the _only bed we’ve got_ or what?” She chuckles bitterly, still in disbelief of how dirty she had done her, 

“I literally don’t give a shit where you choose to masturbate, _Rubia.”_

Normally, Zulema’s bold choice of words would make her flustered, but after living with her for this long it almost makes her want to prove that her suggestions don’t scare her. 

“Well then…” Maca says and walks up to the bed and stops right next to Zulema, who’s scrolling through the playlist on her phone. She unbuttons her jeans and wiggles a little to get out of them. She notices how Zulema throws her naked legs a glare, but no more than that. She proceeds to cross her arms, grab the hem of her T-shirt and pull it up and off of her, slowly. The older woman presses play on one of the songs on her phone and puts an earphone in her ear. Maca is now in underwear right next to her but she doesn’t offer her a single glance. 

She crawls on top of the bed and drops onto her back behind the brunette. She peeks up at black hair next to her. She can hear the music coming from her earphone. Slowly, she sneaks a hand into her lingerie. She’s already pretty worked up and doesn’t need to do much to achieve the burning sensation in the pit of her stomach. She moans. 

Zulema hears her but doesn’t react. It takes about a minute before she lets out another airy sound. She raises the volume on her phone slightly. She had heard Maca moan before, it was nothing new. Continuing scrolling down her playlist, she doesn’t have a very hard time ignoring Maca, until something different suddenly leaves he blonde’s mouth…

“... _Zulema…”_

Her eyes dart up from her phone, not looking at anything specific, just staring straight ahead of her. The next moan hits different because of the way she had said her name right before. She tries to go back to focusing on the music, but it’s harder now. 

“ _Ahh… Zulema, díos…”_

The brunette’s heart starts pounding. Her palms are all of a sudden sweaty as the noise made by the blonde’s movements are starting to sound wet. She squirms slightly in her seat and Maca notices and raises her voice just a little as she lets out a guttural groan. 

“I don’t care what you fantasize about but can you at least keep it down?” Zulema growls eventually, feeling how it’s actually starting to get to her whether she likes it or not.

Maca shuts her mouth closed, but her voice keeps being just as loud. It almost makes it worse; the way her moans struggle to leave her mouth, pleading to be released. She knows exactly what she is doing. She is _obeying_ because she knows what it does to the brunette. 

Zulema sighs. She hates to admit it to herself but she knows she has been caught in a trap. She turns the music off. 

” _Vale Rubia,”_ She says, ”Faster.” Eyes still set ahead of her. Ears attentive.

Maca smirks. It worked, just like she knew it would. She works her fingers faster but as soon as a sound escapes her mouth, Zulema abruptly interrupts,

“Nuh-uh. Quiet.” She reminds her. The blonde has to bite her lip in order to keep herself from failing. The brunette can feel the vibrations in the bed from the blonde’s trembling body combined with her efforts to stay silent and it’s pretty obvious that her demands are starting to take a toll on her. 

“Now, if you ask nicely—“ 

“ _Please Zulema..!”_ She pleads desperately, not really sure what she’s asking for. The corner of Zulema’s mouth curls,

“Please… what?” 

“ _Déjame—_ , 

“ _Qué?”_

Maca simply cries and it’s music to her ears.

“No,” Zulema replies eventually, “You’re too eager. Slow down.” Maca lets out a painful sigh,

” _I don’t care_ , _I’m too close…”_ she pants and ignores her orders. Zulema turns around and just as the blonde’s back starts to arch, she roughly grabs her arm to still it. 

“I said,” her voice low and venomous, “ _No.”_

Maca bites her lip, hard, as she keeps heaving for air. This was torture and she begins to realize she’s been caught in her own trap. 

“Now do as I say or I’ll make sure you feel everything but pleasure.” Zulema assures. The blonde nods involuntarily, “Start over… slowly.”

She lets go of her arm and Maca’s hand moves back to where it was before the brunette interrupted. She starts drawing little circles and before she knows it, the good burning sensation in her lower belly is back. Her breaths increase in volume as well as heaviness and Zulema runs her tongue over her upper lip with anticipation. 

“Don’t be shy… A little deeper, _cariño_.” 

The way she calls her that does things to the blonde. She follows the orders, her arm stretching, her fingers sinking deeper into her own warmth. She gasps.

“You’ve got another hand, don’t you? Put it to use.” The darker woman husks, her voice now dripping with greed. Maca obeys, “Pick up the pace...” she orders as she tilts her chin up.

Maca gets close to the edge real quick after that. Her moans are trembling, her body shaking and her eyes shut closed. Zulema leans forward and strokes her cheek,

 _“Ahí tienes, Rubia…_ ” she purrs, “Let me hear you.”

She leans back as she watches her mouth fall open and lets the most desperate, unbridled groans escape. She observes _carefully_ , her lips slightly parted. She doesn’t even blink nor visibly react but her blood is boiling through her entire body, in a good way, of course. 

” _Bueno, Rubia,_ you deserve it. Go ahead.” She gestures,

Just a couple seconds later, pleasure floods her senses and her back arches off the bed. Zulema’s eyes roam over her body, taking in every detail. The vulnerable state the woman below her was in made her belly flutter. Though she wasn’t going to let it get to her completely… 

Zulema drops down onto her back next to her and picks her phone back up. The blonde is still trying to catch her breath. She tugs at the wire to her headphones to remove them and connects the phone to their speakers instead and presses play. 

Witchfork. She listens to that song a lot, especially since the night they spent together… But it’s also a pretty nice song to just vibe to. 

After some time, Maca has gathered some new powers and oxygen enough to turn her head and grin at Zulema. The brunette throws her a glare,

“What?” She snaps,

“You like to boss around, don’t you?” She teases, 

“ _Cállate.”_ The older woman mumbles but cannot stop the corner of her mouth from twitching. The blonde turns her head back and stares at the ceiling as she lets her senses drown in music all over again. 

But after a couple of songs, Zulema suddenly speaks again, 

“Why do you always put our keys on the table?” She asks, out of nowhere. Maca looks at her. Zulema is still staring at the ceiling. 

“What?” 

“Yeah. It’s bad luck.” She says, without a trace of irony.

Maca laughs, but before she gets to reply, another question interrupts,

“And why do you put so much sugar in your coffee… That’s gonna give you diabetes one day. Not to mention the kind of pastries you like…” 

Now Maca is quiet. Her eyes still on the brunette, silently observing her during her thought process,

“You’re a pretty bad driver too, by the way, and I can’t believe you hate the silvery car that I _stole,_ only because your favorite color is orange…” 

A grin is slowly growing upon the younger woman’s face. Zulema’s gaze is still aimed ahead of her. 

“If u only knew my favorite food...” Maca teases sarcastically,

“Pancakes,” she scrunches her nose, “which shouldn't even be allowed to be called a ‘food’.”

The blonde turns to lay on her back as well and moves a little closer, her heart warm in her chest. 

“Seems like your memory is pretty much intact after all.” Maca muses. 

“Yeah, unfortunately…” she scoffs, though it’s obviously a joke. 

They both knew what this conversation meant, but none of them would say it. 

Song after song plays. Sometimes Zulema hums to the music, sometimes she mumbles lyrics in arabic. Macarena has got her eyes closed just enjoying every sound reaching her ears. The fairy lights in the caravan makes the walls appear blue, yellow, red… It’s soothing, in a way.   
  


“ _Rubia..?”_ She suddenly utters and Maca’s eyes flutter open, “What do you think dying is like?” 

Maca turns her head to look at her. Her tone was curious, not melancholic for once. She thinks for a while before she replies,

“I don’t know…” she mumbles dreamily, “I guess… it depends how you die.” 

“Right.” Zulema agrees,

“But… Dying in a hospital—“

“I’m not going to die in a hospital.” The older woman blurts out and it leaves Maca’s mouth open,

“Wh— what?” She sits up slightly, “what are you talking about?” 

“I won’t die in a hospital.” She states, again. 

“But—“ Maca starts but is suddenly at a loss for words, 

“Don’t worry about it.” The brunette reassures, “I’ll figure something out.” 

“Figu—... You’re not… you’re not going to kill yourself,” Her voice is filled with worry, “are you..?” 

Zulema scoffs.

“ _Zulema, coño,_ answer me!” She demands frantically,

“I can’t answer you that!” The brunette snaps, almost a little bothered by the way she had said it. As if she wouldn’t allow it, as if it wasn’t her own decision. 

“Are you kidding me?” She stresses, “What do you mean can’t answer—“

“ _Rubia!”_ Zulema growls, “How I choose to die is not up for you to decide.” 

Maca is just staring at her, for at least half a minute before she lays back down. It’s quiet for quite some time…. 

“Please don’t…” she half-whispers eventually, much softer than before. Zulema purses her lips and doesn’t reply to that. 

“You should get some sleep, Maca.” She murmurs and turns the music down. 

“You too…” she mumbles. 

“ _Bueno…”_ She switches the light off and they both get comfortable on each side of the bed before the silence fills the room once again. 

An hour goes by. The clock strikes two AM. Maca wakes up from a sound that sounds familiar. It’s a sigh, coming from the other side of the bed. A sad one. 

“Zulema…” she half-whispers when she notices that the older woman is still awake. Zulema turns her head to look at her. Maca doesn’t say anything, just moves her hand to lay it to rest on top of the other woman’s arm. Zulema’s gaze wanders back to the ceiling. The silence is deafening.

“I just want to stay here…” she whispers into the dark, after a few long minutes of silence, “that’s all I ask for.”

Maca’s brows furrow and her thumb starts stroking her arm soothingly, both of them quiet again.

“ _Eso es todo lo que pido._ ” She repeats, all of a sudden so pleadingly and drenched in pain; more like a prayer than a statement and it stabs Maca right in the chest. She jerks herself up and grabs a hold of the brunette, her hand reassuringly on the back of her head, holding her tight against her body. She does it hastily and with exaggerated strength to prevent her from struggling, because she knows she wouldn't normally let her embrace her like that; as if she needed it.

Macarena had seen Zulema sad, but never like this. Not completely _devastated_. It really was all she asked for, and she couldn’t even have _that_.

“ _Shh…_ ” Maca hushes, not really knowing what else to do. This was an impossible situation. No words in the world were right in this moment. Nothing could possibly justify this kind of pain. Tears roll down the brunette’s face, silently. Zulema wasn’t the kind of person to audibly cry but the rhythm of her breathing gives her away. She squints her eyes open whilst still in the arms of the blonde and sees her double in yellow across the room. She is smirking before she speaks,

“ _What?_ Are you gonna cut your wrists or blow your brains out and let this poor girl find you in blood soaked sheets or in a puddle at the edge of the creek, dead?” She mocks, “You’re still nothing but a selfish _hija de puta_ , aren’t you?” 

Zulema sniffles quietly and sits up straight. Maca won’t let her go with her eyes. The yellow figure disappears.

“ _Lo siento…_ ” she whispers. 

“No…” Maca frowns, “Don’t apologize..!” She tucks a dark strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I meant for everything I said earlier…” her brows furrow, “I didn’t mean to upset or scare you.” Their eyes meet. Maca nods a little and Zulema takes her hands in her own,

“I just don’t want to die a victim, locked up and brain dead… You should know me well enough to know that it's not gonna happen.” She says. Maca sighs deeply,

“... I know.” she whispers, then a small smile creeps up on her face, “I just wish you were normal sometimes.” 

Zulema laughs.


	4. Déjame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Déjame.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay you guys, we’ve come to THAT chapter and that is also the reason it has taken me a bit to update... It’s a rather emotionally draining story to write and this chapter is the longest I’ve written so far. I hope it was worth the wait (and the pain)! 
> 
> Again, thank you so much for all your elaborated and lovely comments and support, it really means SO much to me! <3

Macarena is awakened by the unusual and complete silence the next morning. She was alone in the caravan and she was pretty sure that was because Zulema had gone out for a cigarette. She stretches, yawns and reaches for a shirt at the foot of the bed before she gets up. I seems unusually quiet outside too, though, and she can’t help but peek through the curtains to check the couch where Zulema use to smoke. She isn’t there. She frowns. Strange. It was too early for her to be doing the laundry or grocery shopping… So where could she be? She throws a pair of sweatpants and sneakers on and steps outside. 

Birds are singing their morning blues and the weather is calm. The sky is blue and a few white clouds adorns it. She wasn’t usually worried about Zulema being gone for a while, it happened quite often, especially at night. Most times she was downtown having a drink, well, as far as Maca knew. God knows what that woman was actually up to. 

She walks out quite a bit in front of the caravan trying to see if perhaps she was in the car, but no Zulema. She knew she didn’t need a babysitter, but after how she had pretty much broken down last night, Maca was actually slightly concerned. She sighs and turns back around and that’s when she notices a head of black hair on the roof, seemingly reading, or could it be writing? 

“Hey!” She shouts and it makes the brunette lift her head up and meet the blonde’s gaze, “what are you doing?” 

Zulema closes the book on her lap and smiles.

“Passing time while I still have time to pass.” She replies. Maca walks over and climbs up to join her. 

“What are you reading?” She asks curiously. 

“Curiosity killed the cat.” The brunette winks, “So, are we taking down the Christmas decorations today or what? Christmas ended weeks ago.” She asks, obviously to change the subject.

“Well… I thought you didn’t want to.” Maca laughs through a frown, “that’s why we haven’t done it yet.” 

Zulema shrugs and pulls a single cigarette out of her pockets before attempting to light it,

“Give me that..!” The younger woman hisses and snatches it out if her grasp. Zulema doesn’t even protest this time. 

She tosses it over the edge, onto the solid ground below and clicks her tongue disapprovingly. 

“I don’t know…” Zulema mumbles, “I’m getting sick of those fairy lights.” 

“ _Vale._ We’ll just take them down.” Maca shrugs. Zulema nods and the awkward silence settles in once again. Maca throws an eye her way, trying to figure out what she’s thinking about, but she has had the same melancholic expression for days now and she didn’t know if it was new or the same old thoughts.

On Zulema’s mind, was the fact that this would be the last time she was going to take down those Christmas decorations and switch off the colorful fairy lights on the wall. This Christmas was her last and it was already over. Every Christmas from now on was going to be celebrated without her and hurt differently than other things that she would miss out on. 

It was strange in a way, that all things would go on without her and she had a hard time wrapping her head around the fact that Macarena was going to grow old and celebrate every new Christmas with a daughter. That all of that would happen though she is not here.

  
“I’m sorry about last night.” Zulema suddenly blurts out and Maca frowns,

“For what?” 

The brunette chuckles,

“For being so… sentimental,” scoffs, “This thing in my head has made me act silly lately.”

“Hm,” Maca hums in amusement, “blame it on that.” Her mouth curls and the brunette offers her a brief smile in return,

“If I start making you breakfast or fold your underwear, call 911.” She mutters. Macarena laughs wholeheartedly and gets out of her chair, 

“Never! I’d enjoy every second of it.” she walks over to the ladder and starts climbing back down, “Are you coming?” 

Zulema sighs, lets her gaze linger in the sky for a moment before she joins the blonde. 

They decorated the van ridiculously over the top this year. On the inside _and_ the outside. Candles, lights in shape of stars and Christmas music playing out of the portable speakers constantly. They both liked this holiday, but if it hadn't been for that Maca, it wouldn’t have been this decorative. She knew Zulema loved it, but she would never put all of this up herself and she would never admit she liked when it was a little ‘too much’. 

The brunette picks up a little porcelain Santa decoration from the kitchen counter and observes it, lost in thought as usual. It’s wearing tiny clothes in red. The exact same color blood is. 

“Do you think it hurts to die?” Zulema suddenly asks and Macarena spins around, not surprised, but rather shaken by the question. The fact that she kept having those kind of thoughts upset her, but could she really blame her? 

“Once again, I guess it depends how you— how one, dies...” She answers honestly, still a little uncomfortable talking about Zulema and death in the same context, “But don’t let that consume you, that’s something no one can control. Not even you.” 

Zulema offers her a subtle nod, as a thanks for at least answering and putting up with her melancholic thoughts and questions. Though she was genuinely curious, since she knew it was gonna happen sooner rather than later and she felt like maybe it was time to start thinking about those things before they came as an unpleasant surprise… 

“ _Vale…”_ she mumbles before shoving the doll down a cardboard box that soon goes into their tiny closet. Once everything is taken down and stored away, and the van looks normal again, Maca slouches down onto the couch. She sighs loudly in relief and picks up her phone to play some music. Zulema throws her a glance. Realizing she’s busy, she opens one of the drawers next to her and pulls out the polaroid camera. 

_Click_.

Maca looks up and finds the older woman with the camera in front of her face, taking pictures of her.

“Hey..!” She exclaims, “Don’t waste them, I don’t have that many left!” She complains. 

_Click._

Zulema lets out a throaty laugh and Maca gets up from the couch to try to take the camera from her.

“Nu-uh,” The brunette cuckles, “This is revenge for the horrible morning pictures you took of me..!” 

_Click._

“Zulema!!” Maca laughs and jumps to try to take it from her, but Zulema is taller than her when wearing her platform boots, ”give it to me!” 

“I’ll give it back once you let me take a proper photo of you.” She offers and raises a brow as if she’s waiting for her to agree to it.

“... What? Are you asking me to pose?” 

“ _Sí,”_ Zulema grins, “ _Dale, Rubita!”_ Maca frowns, but cannot help but feel a little challenged and it excites her whether she likes it or not.

“ _Bueno.”_ She smirks, takes a step back and runs a hand through her hair, pouts and poses with one hand on her waist. Zulema is about to take a picture but briefly removes the camera from her face only to throw her a glance first. 

_Click._

She turns around and throws the camera an eye over the shoulder, lips slightly parted. A few seconds pass but there’s no click,

“Zulema, _venga!”_ Maca whines, not really paying attention to how the older woman is gawking,

_Click._

The blonde laughs, wholeheartedly, and the brunette’s mouth curls. Macarena’s smile was something she was going to miss if feelings like that exist in the afterlife… 

_Click._

_“Hey!_ I wasn’t prepared!” She giggles,

“I know.” Zulema muses, before handing the camera over to Maca, “ _Vale,_ I’m done.” 

The blonde shakes her head and puts it aside on the kitchen counter and as she does so, Zulema sneaks the last photo into her pocket. She picks up the little pile of polaroids and flips through all of them with a grin. Zulema’s eyes never leave her.   
  


“Hey,” she says suddenly, “Would you… Would you like to help me clean up on the roof? It looks like hell up there.” Zulema suddenly asks, as if she got the idea out of nowhere,

“Right now?” 

“Mhm.” She nods,

“... Sure.” Maca shrugs, pits the photos back down and follows the brunette out the door. 

When all four feet are on the roof, Zulema slouches into one of the chairs standing back to back with each other. 

“What are you doing?” Maca sighs, “weren’t we supposed to clean this place up?” 

“Sit down.” she demands. It takes a moment before she obeys. Then there’s only silence.

“... You came here to what? Stargaze in the middle of the day?” 

“No,” Zulema mumbles, “I just want to be able to talk without looking at your face.” She admits. Maca frowns, but doesn’t say anything, just waits for the brunette to elaborate,

“I’ve spent all my life running.” She starts, “Running… constantly. Running away from my mother. Running away from that pig she made me marry. In prison, I dreamt of running away…” 

She falls silent. Maca patiently waits, but the pause doesn’t seem to end, 

“Zulema?” Maca gently urges, “What is it?” 

“It’s just…” she hesitates, “There is no need to run if you have a home. And the time we’ve spent together here, in this caravan… Is the closest I’ve ever had to a home. I wanted you to know that.” 

It hits Maca hard and she has no idea how to react or reply to that. 

”This place is special to me too.” She says, knowing Zulema didn’t mean the actual caravan, but that the two of them make a home together. But Maca was too conflicted to say the same. She knows she should be with her brother, her niece, the family that wouldn’t get her into trouble every day of the week. She shouldn’t feel like home here. She may have a close relationship to Zulema but she was a bad influence on her and there was no denying that. 

A tear runs down the brunette’s temple. She knows. She knows that Maca isn’t feeling the same. She had a home, a family and a place to go back to after all this. 

At least now she knows. 

“Although, to tell you the truth, you’re a shitty roommate..!” Macarena laughs. Zulema smiles, though she knows can’t see it. 

“And you sleep with your mouth open.” Zule hits back, 

“Oh so you watch me when I sleep?” 

“No, I don’t watch you but you make squirrel noises.” She mutters and starts imitating a rodent. Maca snorts,

“You kick me in your sleep, like a little bunny rabbit…” 

“Sometimes I wake up with an arm around my waist.” Zulema says, her voice more serious now and Maca is quiet, “what’s that about?” She asks, watching the clouds as they float across the sky. 

“I—“ she shrugs, “There’s not a lot of space in the bed…” she says, and it’s clearly just a bad excuse. 

“Hm.” The older woman hums, not really thinking more about it. She was use to the blonde’s white lies by now and wasn’t really bothered by them. 

“Sometimes…” Maca begins but realizes it was a rather sensitive confession to make and isn’t sure she should continue, 

“What?” The brunette urges curiously,

“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and hear you whisper prayers in arabic, but I always pretend I’m still asleep because I know you don’t want me to know. Even though I don’t know the language, I already know what it’s about.” She says and bites her lip, waiting for the other woman’s reaction. 

Zulema laughs, one of those brief, ironic huffs she makes when she considers something pathetic. She doesn’t say anything, though. 

”You’ll be rid of it soon.” She states before pushing herself out of her chair, ”Hungry?” She asks bluntly, before Macarena has a chance to reply to her previous statement. The blonde turns to look at her, her lips pursed.

“Do you miss Egypt?”

“What?” Now it’s Zulema’s turn to frown. The blonde just keeps looking at her and it makes her squirm slightly, “Get your ass to the kitchen.” She snorts eventually and gestures for her to move by poking her chin out to direct her, heaving her arm towards the ladder. Maca frowns and sighs heavily, clearly done with her always acting like this, but gets up nonetheless. 

“Make us something to eat while I fix this mess.” The brunette mumbles and starts sweeping the leaves off the roof. Maca climbs back down and enters the caravan, heading straight for the cabinets above the sink. She finds a ton of rice; the only product that lasts for months and that they decided to store just in case they were forced to hide away from the public for a longer period of time. She finds a bell pepper, a lemon and garlic in the fridge, some shellfish and peas in the freezer and a tiny package of saffron hidden away behind the rice. She keeps looking, but she already knows what to make. 

After an hour Zulema is starting to get tired of trying to clean the stupid rug, made of synthetic grass, that they had chosen to spread out on the roof for whatever reason… It was a total dirt magnet. Little stones, leaves, water, pollen, even little insects got stuck in it. Getting it because it looked cool was a mistake. 

She aggressively hurls the besom over the brink of the van and gets back down. There’s a wonderful scent of spices in the air that hits her on the way down. Curiously, she sneaks into the caravan to check what Maca is up to… 

“ _What_ is that?” Her eyes have grown twice their size as she steps inside and stares at the plates atop the table. 

“... Paella.” Maca shrugs, trying hard to keep herself from grinning when she notices how Zulema struggles to decide whether to laugh or cry. “Well… paella _pyramids_.” She clarifies. The brunette looks up at Maca, then down at the food again,

“... Are you serious?” She stares at the sculpted dish for three more seconds before she bursts into a fit of deep laughter, making the blonde unable to contain it, “Maca, this is the most ridiculous thing I’ve _ever_ seen!” 

The younger woman shrugs again, her cheeks turn rosy and her dimples deepen. The brunette slides onto the couch, still glaring at the plate.

“I hate them.” She says, with a smile on her face, shaking her head.

Maca sits down in front of her and her eyes never let go of Zulema. She knows her by now and she knows that a smile like that means that the words coming out of her mouth are insignificant. The brunette picks up her fork and lets it hover next to the little pyramid for a moment and Maca can’t help but giggle,

“What?” Dark eyes are suddenly on her,

“Don’t want to ruin them?” She teases. Zulema offers her a glare before she mashes the little pile with the cold cutlery. 

“I’ve buried a shrimp in the middle,” Maca reveals childishly, “A _mummy shrimp_.” 

Zulema hurls a fork full of food at her that gets all over her face and clothes, but instead of getting upset like she used to back in the day, she laughs because she was actually asking for it. 

“I’m never letting you cook again.” She grumbles, heaving the fork back down in the food and into her mouth. It tastes amazing but there’s not a chance she’s going to express that out loud. 

She knew Maca was making an effort to cheer her up and she did, in fact, succeed to do so. No matter how childishly ridiculous and stupid this was, it did warm her heart. No one had ever done anything like this for her before and never had she imagined that anyone ever would, either. 

They finish the food and Zulema snatches both plates off the table to put them in the sink. 

“It’s sparkling up there, I’m telling you,” she mumbles as she chews the last bit of food in her mouth and nods towards the ceiling, ”You should get up there and rate my hard work.”

“Oh, like at the car wash?” Maca mocks and if looks could kill, she would be long gone by now, “Will you vacuum it too for _3 euros más?”_

“I swear I’m going to throw you headlong off the roof, _Rubia_.” She grumbles and violently pushes the blonde towards the door. 

Maca trips out of the caravan, giggling. She climbs up the ladder for what must be the third time today and to her surprise, the fake grass is quite literally glistening in the blazing sun. She turns to Zulema at the other end of the ladder and gives her an approving smile before taking the last step. When the brunette has joined her at the top, the blonde has already taken a seat in her chair and begun enjoying the sunshine. She takes a seat in her own, back facing Maca. 

“You did good.” The younger woman states. Her tone flat, but the fact that she offers her confirmation makes her mouth twitch slightly. 

“Thanks.” She husks and takes a deep breath, letting her gaze wander among the clouds above. 

Most days were very similar to this. Their life together in the caravan was pretty normal. Like a married couple on a camping trip. They fought, they made each other food and did each other’s laundry, they fucked, they annoyed each other in their sleep as they only had one bed, they sunbathed and stargazed atop the roof and had conversations about everything between heaven and earth. 

But for Zulema, normal had never been normal. She didn’t know what normal was before this. The time here had taught Zulema everything she knows about normality. She had always thought it was the opposite to freedom; that normal equals boring and dull. But she had been proven wrong when they moved in here; when they built this home from scratch and started doing those little things you do when you have a home and a sense of normality. 

“ _Sí_ ,” She utters shortly, “I do miss Egypt. But I used to miss it because I thought that if I ever returned, it would feel like going home. I’ve never felt at home anywhere and I thought it must be because I left the place where I probably belong; my homeland. But recently I’ve come to realize that a home has nothing to do with where you come from or where you live. A home isn’t necessarily something that you’re born into or something that’s a matter of course. Home is… a feeling.” 

Maca listens attentively as Zulema opens up. Since she found out she was sick, she had started to do it more frequently and she definitely didn’t complain, but it also pained her to know that it was all just a desperate attempt to get as much as possible said and confessed before it was too late. 

“And I’ve had that feeling lately; of being at home.” She finishes. 

Maca smiles briefly, though the brunette can’t see it. She knew that her little actions had mattered even though she wouldn’t put it like that, and she was really happy that they did.

Zulema turns her head aside, 

”You know how I said that I’ve never been in love..?” 

Maca turns too as she hears the older woman’s voice to her left. Their eyes meet,

” _Sí?”_ she replies gently, 

Dark eyes switch between hers. She turns her gaze back to the sky, eyes squinting lightly, but just as she opens her mouth to speak their conversation is interrupted by the the sound of wheels approaching in the distance. They throw each other a look as if to ask the other if they’re expecting company, but they both look equally as confused. 

“If it’s the police, you kill me, okay?” Macarena whispers, Zulema throws her a glare,

“I will kill you even if it isn’t if you don’t shut up.” Zulema mutters, “Get your ass moving!” 

Macarena jerks herself out of the chair and hurries down the wobbly ladder, Zulema close behind. They sneak into the caravan right before the cars appear within sight and closes the door carefully behind them, not to make any noise that could draw attention.

The brunette gets on top of the couch and and peeks out the window. It’s not the police. It’s three pickup trucks, about three men in each, Zulema estimates.

“ _Shit—“_ She snatches the car keys off the table and gets up from the couch, “climb out the left window in the back and get into the car, _ahora!”_

“ _What?!_ Who is it? What’s happening?” Maca stresses, trying to peek out the same window the brunette had scouted from. 

“It’s the Mexicans, and I’m pretty sure they’re not here for dessert...” she pushes Maca towards the back of the caravan. 

They had been out to kill them since their last heist and they thought they’d be safe in the caravan, after all, it was pretty well hidden in the woods. Though apparently not well enough...

She cracks the window open and helps the blonde get out first. Once she is on the ground outside, she silently gestures for her to wait and runs back to get her guns from the locker above the bed. A notebook is laying in top of them and it makes her pause for a second. She grabs it, sighs and shoves it into a pillow on the bed. She has written something in it. Something she wants Maca to find in case this goes wrong. She grabs the guns and rushes back to the window in the back. 

She starts climbing out herself, but halfway down she realizes the decorative chain on her pants is stuck somewhere in the window frame and no matter how hard she pulls, it won’t get loose. Maca tries to help her while half carrying her but it’s impossible. 

“Ta—“ she starts but the older woman quickly puts a finger over her mouth to urge her to be quiet, “ _Take it off.”_ She whispers. They can hear car doors close and voices coming closer by now. Zulema looks down at her hip again and starts hooking it off. It rattles against the hard surface of the caravan as she lets go of it and they can hear how it catches the men’s attention. 

“ _Run!_ ” Zulema shouts as she spots them appear around the corner. They start shooting at them right as they get the car doors open. Luckily, the doors take the bullets for them. “You shoot, I drive.” She breathes and tosses a gun at Maca in the passenger seat. Zulema starts the car and the gas pedal is slammed to the floor before the engine is even fully awake. The wheels spin for just a second before they speed off. 

The terrain is rough, they’re in the middle of nowhere but Zulema drives as if their old Saab could handle just anything. A bullet breaks through one of the windows in the back and both of them duck in surprise, adrenaline rushing through their bodies. 

“You okay?” Zulema pants, her focus in the rearview mirror. 

“Yeah…” Maca confirms, completely out of breath. Her eyes finally back on the brunette, “Hey, maybe you shouldn’t be driving…” 

Zulema’s jaw clenches. She pretends not to hear it. She doesn’t want to accept the fact that she’s become too unstable to drive a vehicle. She doesn’t know what could happen if she suddenly forgets where she is or that she is driving. She could faint or get a seizure at any time. She could easily get dizzy, lose her sense of balance and drive them off the road or see a person in front of the car that doesn’t even exist, swerve and kill them both. But she doesn’t want to acknowledge that fact. 

They’re pretty far ahead of them. They got a pretty good lead before the men even had the chance to get back into their cars. The gas pedal is still slammed to the floor. She doesn’t really have a destination in mind, she just keeps driving to hopefully shake them off. After a while, only trees surrounds them and that’s when it strikes, as if spoken into existence… 

“Zulema, watch out!!” Maca warns and the brunette makes an abrupt turn to avoid the ditch they were closing in on. The blonde throws her an eye.

“I can’t see…” she mumbles and is close to drive them off the road another time,

“Zulema!” Maca yells and grabs onto the steering wheel to avoid another accident, “what do you mean _can’t see?_ ”

“I just— it’s just…” she blinks and Maca has to control the car for her.

“Stop the car.” She demands but the older woman puts her hands back on the wheel,

“Absolutely not, they’ll get to us!” She shakes her head but Maca insists,

“I said _stop,”_ Maca snaps, “or I’ll steer us into a fucking tree so that you’ve got no choice!” 

Zulema throws her hands up in the air in surrender and Maca has to quickly gain control over the car again as the brunette lets it go. She takes her foot off the gas pedal and lets the car slow down, gradually.

“Get out.” Maca urges. Zulema rolls her eyes and pushes the door wide open before she steps out. As soon as she leans out of the car, she crumples to her knees. Maca swears before rushing out and around the vehicle to check on her, “Hey—“ 

Zulema rubs her temple, too dizzy to stand just yet. 

“You need to get up. We need to hurry.” Maca stresses, knowing this was something she couldn’t really do anything about, yet panicking over the fact that they were both facing a certain death if they didn’t get into the car immediately, “Here,”

She reaches out a hand but the brunette ignores it and when she tries to grab onto her instead, she’s shying away frustratedly. 

“Just... let me help you. This one time!” Maca sighs pleadingly and the older woman eventually lets her hook an arm around one of her own to help her to get back up on her feet. 

“Come on…” she says, gentler now and Zulema puts a hand above her eyes for protection from the blinding sun as she stumbles around and into the vehicle. 

She slouches down into the passenger seat, head resting against the backrest. 

“ _Puto alien_...” She grumbles, eyes on the road.

“It’s alright,” Maca reassures as she speeds off, “We just need to get out of here.” 

She drives until they reach the desert. The roads are winding and rather uncomfortable because of the unpredictable sand moving across most of them. She manages to plow through and over most of the obstacles but just when they think there’s nothing that can stop them, the car stops, stuck in the sand and the wheels merely spinning. Maca removes her foot from the gas pedal and they both just proceed to stare at the sand around them.

“... Shit.” The blonde mumbles. 

“Okay, get out.” Zulema gestures and opens the door. Maca throws her a glare,

“What?” She snaps, “What are we gonna do? _Run?”_ She asks sarcastically but the brunette nods. 

“Yes.” She secures her guns and grabs the walkie talkie before staring at Maca as if she’s been waiting ages for her to get out. The blonde steps outside and looks around.

“Where?!” 

“We just need to reach the helicopter. I’ll tell him where to land.” She replies, nodding once towards her friend in the sky, walkie in hand, “Come on!” 

They start jogging, but just after a minute or so, they hear cars approaching behind them and they both speed up. They are no longer jogging, they are running for their lives. 

“Land it!!” Zulema yells into the radio in her hand, “Or I’ll shove the whole thing up your ass!” 

They’re both running out of oxygen and their muscles are aching but they have no choice but to keep going. The cars are closing in on them but so is the helicopter and it keeps their hopes up.

But suddenly, Zulema stops.

“ _Vamos!”_ Maca yells, but the brunette doesn’t move, “What are you doing?!”

”Go! I’ll be right behind.” She lies, and even though it sounds reassuring, Maca knows. She is going to stay behind and make sure Maca will make it in time. She was giving up.

”No… I know what you’re doing,” the blonde breathes, her voice strained with sadness, ”I won’t let you. Not like this..!” 

”Maca, _tranquila,_ ” she sighs gently, ”I’m not doing it for you.” 

Maca desperately shakes her head but deep down she knew that she was telling the truth. This wasn’t a sacrifice, this was suicide, which would be just as horrible if it wasn’t for the fact that she was going to die locked up in a hospital; to lose hair, weight, spark and dignity if she didn’t do this. None of that had ever been an option for Zulema. She wanted to be in control of her own destiny, not for an illness or someone else to choose it for her, and now she had the chance.

“Come with me and we’ll figure something out! Just please, _not like this..!”_ Maca cries, but Zulema shakes her head,

“We both won’t make it in time. _Sal de aquí.”_ She urges, her eyes desperately devouring the blonde because it’s the last time they ever will. 

Maca shakes her head another time, though not in disagreement, but pure devastation. She couldn't believe she was about to run and leave Zulema behind in exchange for a chance at life. A life Zulema wouldn’t be able to have no matter what choice she made. 

She shakes her head because she cannot believe this will be the last time she ever looks at her, the last words they will ever say to each other and the end of whatever they have. Whatever is between them. 

She throws an eye at the cars in the distance and then at Zulema before she desperately and rushed, throws herself at her and crashes their lips together, one last time. 

Zulema kisses her back. Properly. Hands caressing her cheeks and diving into her bright beach waves to hold onto her for a second. She’s putting more love into that kiss than she’s ever put into anything in her entire life. 

“ _Venga_.” Zulema finally urges, trying to hide that her voice is trembling out of fear she refused to acknowledge.

Macarena throws her one last glance before taking off towards the helicopter. She runs, and she runs fast. Fast as if the faster she runs, the sooner it will all be over and the sooner she can start to forget.

Zulema’s eyes are on the blonde the entire time, focused on the last her eyes could grasp of her, ignoring the sound of the pick-up trucks closing in on her from behind. Her breathing is heavy as she attempts to keep her calm and fight the fear growing in the pit of her stomach. She knew she was making the right decision but that didn’t make her less afraid. She was scared of what it would feel like and she was terrified that Maca wouldn’t get to the helicopter in time… 

Suddenly her yellow counterpart appears, sitting on a rock closeby,

“What are you doing?” She scoffs,

“Killing you.” Zulema states, so determined not even her own brain can come up with a comeback. The illusion stays quiet.

She starts humming, something she always does when her nerves are on edge; creates melodies much like lullabies to calm herself down. The sound of gentle tones, let alone in combination with the silence of the desert, always brought her peace within. 

She only stops once a fatal bullet bursts through her chest and cuts her off, ferociously. 

Maca is closing in on the aircraft and just when it’s close to a hundred meters away, she hears a shot fired in the distance and the shock makes Maca trip on her own feet. She regains the balance in time and manages to avoid kissing the ground. She makes another run for it but the shooting doesn’t stop and it’s making her legs feel numb. Another and another and another echoes through the desert. 

Her knees are starting to give in, the pain in her chest grows too heavy to bare. She feels like she can’t breathe after the last bullet is fired and the final silence is eventually what makes her knees hit the ground. 

Time ceases to exist. There’s only silence; no air to breathe, no feelings available to adopt.

A cry ripples through her body, or a scream… She is not really sure because she can’t hear it herself. She can’t even hear the the helicopter right in front of her or the whirling wind tugging at her hair and clothes. The pilot is gesturing for her to get in, but she cannot physically bring herself to move. 

“ _Hey Blondie! Now!”_ He yells but she cannot hear him only see his mouth move. She cannot hear anything, until the sound of wheels of three pickups starts to seep into her head and somehow give her new powers, as if it’s her duty to escape them; as if it’s a promise, silently made to the brunette she left behind. 

She pushes herself out of the sand and uses the last strength she can gather to reach the aircraft and climb inside. As soon as her feet are off the ground, the helicopter takes off. The Mexicans fire a few shots at them but miss and give up rather quickly. 

They gain some height and are finally on their way out of there but something just doesn’t feel right within the blonde. Something is terribly wrong. She did what Zulema had told her to do, she did what she wanted, yet the pain is tugging at her heartstrings as if she made the wrong choice. 

She spots Zulema, motionless on her back in the sand, _alone_ and abandoned, it is just too much for her to handle. She couldn’t just leave her there to die like that.

“No…” she mumbles to herself, “No.” 

She gets out of her seat and grabs onto handles, metal and walls to pull herself towards the front, 

“Take us down!” She yells to the pilot and he turns his head only to furrow his brows as if she’s crazy, “The ground, _now!”_ She orders, and even though he seems to judge her decision, he does exactly as she says. 

“They’ll come back for you.” He warns but Maca only nods, 

“I know.” She shouts over the sound of the blades roaring above them, “But there’s something I gotta do. I’m not sure I can live with myself otherwise...” The pilot only hears half of what she’s saying but does what he’s been told. As soon as they reach solid ground, Maca jumps out of the aircraft and rushes towards Zulema in the sand. She drops onto her knees next to the wounded brunette. 

Zulema throws the woman above her a weak glance,

“... What are you doing..?” She asks under her breath as Maca hooks her arms around hers and starts pulling her towards the helicopter.

“I’m not gonna let you die alone.” She replies and tries to hurry as she notices how the cars make a turn to come back for them, just as she had been told they would. She manages to get Zulema up and into the helicopter right before they start shooting towards them all over again. Maca spins around and fires a few shots that makes them slow down enough for her to have time to get on as well. 

Once she’s aboard and they’ve started hovering, she presses her hands against Zulema’s abdomen, trying to slow down the bleeding, but soon notices that she doesn’t have hands enough to cover all the wounds. There’s too many of them and she’s bleeding out fast. A puddle has begun to grow underneath her and a single drop is running from the corner of her mouth towards the floor.

“Zulema, please stay with me, you’re safe now..! We’ll get help.” She pleads, in denial of that she’s been shot at least five times, in her chest and all over her stomach. There is no way she will survive this and she knew that from the moment she heard the amount of gunshots and saw her lying helpless on the ground. She just refuses to accept it.

Zulema gathers some strength to force Maca’s hands off of her blood-soaked clothes but the blonde keeps struggling,

“Maca, stop…” she pants, her breaths short and her body weak, “ _Maca_ ... _”_

_“No!”_ Maga begs, not wanting her to give up just yet. She needs more time. They weren’t done. She still has things to say. The older woman’s voice turns pleading,  
  


_“Déjame.”_

A little light that’s existed since the first day in prison goes out within Maca as her words reach her ears. Zulema had told her several times that this is what she wanted. She didn’t want the cancer to get the best of her and she didn’t want to die in a hospital. She wanted to die on her own terms. She wanted to die free, brave and with her sanity still intact. 

But it didn’t matter to Maca at the moment, because she didn’t want her to die _at all_. 

She coughs and even more blood erupts from her lungs, nearly drowning her as she’s lying on her back. Maca quickly pulls her up into her lap and tilts her to the side, enabling her to breathe better, even if it’s not for long. She runs a soothing hand through her hair, over and over again. Zulema gasps for air and the blonde holds her closer.

”You’ll be okay, _vale?”_ She reassures, feeling how hot tears have started to roll down her cheeks. She refuses to acknowledge them as long as Zulema breathes, ”Wherever you end up, even if it’s _en el puto infierno_ , you’ll be okay…”

The older woman doesn’t reply but her fingers tighten slightly around her thigh, telling her that she hears her, 

“And when we meet again—“ she starts but her voice cracks, “... we’ll be the richest bitches in hell, eh?” She chuckles through a sob and her face scrunches up in agony because of how badly she wants it to be true. She feels Zulema’s hand move a again, although less this time. She knows she would have laughed at that, but she can’t.

There is blood all over her own pants, the floor of the helicopter and her hands. It’s gotten in the brunette’s dark hair and probably on her own face from wiping the tears that insist on running down her face nonstop. 

“ _... It— it does hurt... to die.”_ Zulema stutters, her voice strained with pain and it stabs the blonde like a knife to the heart. She doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing to say, only tears to shed. “ _Please… keep talking.”_ She begs weakly and Maca hurriedly places her hand atop Zulema’s that currently rests on her belly,

“I will name her Noelia. I decided it the night you told me about her... ” Maca murmurs and it’s clear that it affects the brunette because she moves her head slightly as if to try to look at her but doesn’t succeed, so Maca helps her to turn back onto her back, “I’ll tell her all about us, I swear.” 

Zulema once told Saray back in Cruz del Sur that she didn’t give a fuck about how people would remember her, and she meant that. But that just changed. Now it was suddenly all that mattered; all she needed to hear to finally be at peace with leaving. A tear runs down her temple as she closes her eyes shut. 

“It’s a beautiful name. Fátima would have liked it too.” She assures, tragically playing with a bloodstained strand of dark hair. The other woman is quiet. A little too quiet… 

“Zulema..?” The brunette doesn’t react. Her fingers don’t move but she still breathes. Barely, but she does. “I love you. Do you hear me?” her voice breaks, “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you earlier… Why I didn’t _realize_ it earlier,“ she stops to take a deep breath and gather herself as much as she possibly can, “ _God,_ I’m so stupid..! Please stay with me! I don’t know what to do without you. That’s why I came back for you. That’s why I always come back to you… _please,_ ” she desperately pleads and scoops her up a little closer but notices rather quickly that something has changed… 

She has stopped breathing. 

After hearing those words, she could let go. A part of Maca dies with her and it is a pain that she has never experienced before. Excruciating, vile and unmerciful. She wants her to say something; to reply to what she just confessed. She wants to fight her like she use to when she gives her the silent treatment; wants to mock her until she runs out of patience and has no choice but to reply. 

But her lips are still, her body numb and her eyes dull. She has already ran out of it. Out of patience, fire and words. Out of life, which she used to be so full of… 

She carefully strokes her pale cheek. She doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do now. Accept what she cannot change and be grateful for her freedom or give in to the void and cry until the air feels toxic..? It already hurts to breathe. It hurts to think, to feel and to pretend to be strong. Everything hurts. _Everything._

The pilot throws the two women an eye over his shoulder. The stress and fury in Zulema’s voice as she yelled into the radio had been for completely selfless reasons. It had been for love and sacrifice, even though that stubborn woman never would admit it. 

” _Ferreiro,”_ he yells over the sound of the thundering aircraft and Maca throws him a glance, eyes watery, ” _Your brother and his family is waiting for you when we arrive. We’re not going to Morocco, you’re going home._ ” 


	5. Enterrarme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hasta que la muerte nos separe.”

The first couple of days at home didn’t feel like home. She hadn’t said much since she got through the door of her brother's apartment apart from letting him know that she had her own apartment and that he didn’t need to take care of her. She didn’t want to bother him with all this misery. 

He had insisted she would stay, though. Partly because he knew it was going to get worse if she was left alone and unsupervised but also because he had missed her and wanted her to meet his daughter, her niece. After all, she was named after her and had asked about her a lot lately. 

Macarena really did want to see her and spend time with her family but it was as if she just couldn’t enjoy it no matter how hard she tried. She was completely consumed by sadness. Nothing made her happy, nothing made her smile. She should feel relieved that she was safe and back home; that she made it out alive and was soon to have a child of her own, which she had dreamt about for so long. But she doesn’t. 

All she could think of was Zulema. Probably because the brunette had been terrorizing her for years; mildly annoying her one day while attempting to murder her the next. Always by her side whether she liked it or not. She was always _there_ , whether it was behind, beside or on top of her and all of a sudden she just wasn’t. It made her absence become so brutally conspicuous. Like some kind of tinnitus that will never go away.

Today was her funeral. 

Maca had considered not going. She didn’t know if she would be able to handle it, but she realized that if she didn’t take this last chance to say goodbye, she would regret it for as long as she’s alive. 

Maca decided to wear simple pants and a hoodie, all black of course, but couldn’t bother to actually dress up. Zulema would have thought it was ridiculous if she showed up in a dress and heels anyway. This felt more suitable. It felt more like them. 

She arrives just in time. A little later than everyone else but she blames her emotional state. She had been numb all day. The whole week to be exact. There weren't a lot of people there. Zulema didn’t have a lot of friends, let alone family and those she had didn’t care enough to attend her funeral. No matter how sad it may sound, most people were relieved to get rid of her. 

Saray was there. It would have been too sad if she wasn’t. She was Zulema’s closest friend and even though she never liked Maca, the blonde was happy to see her. Even the sight of Castillo made the corners of her mouth curl. She would have been worried if it wasn’t for the fact that he had retired and had a little human decency unlike most people working for the police. He would never arrest her at a funeral even if he could. Besides, he didn’t even know of the worst crimes she had committed, yet… 

Saray performed. She danced to song and music by some talented friends of hers and held a speech shortly thereafter. It was beautiful; emotional to say the least. Maca would also have held a speech, if it wasn’t for the fact that Zulema’s passing had left her speechless.

Their eyes meet a few times. Saray knew how much Macarena meant to Zulema because she knew the brunette well enough to know that if she moves into a caravan with someone and spends years doing what she loves with them, that someone means more to her than she would ever admit. Whether Saray liked the blonde or not, she knew that Zulema truly did, and it made her happy to know that she had someone by her side those years until the very end. 

The ceremony is coming to an end and it’s time for everyone to say their last goodbyes before the coffin goes into the ground. Maca is nervous about this part. She didn’t know what it would feel like to see her again after everything that happened. 

It becomes her turn rather quickly. She gets up and slowly walks over to the coffin, not quite ready to see her like this, but she keeps reminding herself that she’s at peace now. This can’t be worse than any of the painful minutes that passed in the helicopter. Besides, this was just the shell of her. 

She stares straight ahead of her until she comes to a halt right in front of the coffin and lets her gaze fall to the pale features below. Her breath hitches a little and she feels a sudden urge to burst into tears, but she represses it. 

Zulema was laying in a white cloth, face towards the sky and hands folded neatly on top of each other on her chest. She looked as if she was sleeping. Though, Maca had seen her sleep many times and knew that she looked different in those moments. Her dark eyelashes often fluttered slightly when she was dreaming and her breathing always got pretty heavy as sleep consumed her. She twisted and turned a lot and she always had one leg outside of the blanket. Now her lashes were still, she didn’t move and she wasn’t breathing, at all. 

It was so weird to her, that she was right in front of her, yet she missed her. She missed her _so much_ . Her wittiness, her husky morning voice, her crazy impulses, her rare smiles and the way she used to call her _Rubia…_ Especially that.

She wipes a tear before she shoves her hand down her jeans pocket to search for something. Saray watches her from afar as she picks up a teal eye pencil, one that she bought solely for this occasion, and removes the lid with a pop. A corner of her mouth curls in approval and Maca offers her a brief smile in return before she leans over Zulema’s body and carefully colors the cold skin below her eyes, just the way the brunette used to wear it. She paints with one hand and wipes her own tears with the other not to instantly ruin what she’s created. She had to admit, it looked better when she did it herself but right now that wasn’t exactly an option… 

“ _Díos_ , I fucking hate you for leaving me like this…” she whipsers into the casket, lightly tracing her cold nose before she has to stop as the pain grows too intense.

“Miss?” She hears a man’s voice approach from her right, “I apologize for interrupting, but this was found in the pocket of her jacket…” 

He hands her a small, glossy photo. She turns it around,

“I believe that’s you.” He says, eyes on the blonde whose heart stops when she realizes what photo it is. 

It’s not the one of them together, because that photo she kept for herself. That photo was stored away in one of her bedroom drawers. She would have framed it, if it wasn’t for the fact that it was nothing but salt for the still open wound.

It’s a photo of herself, laughing, caught off guard. 

“ _Hey! I wasn’t prepared!”_

_“I know.”_

She remembers that moment as if it was yesterday. This morning, even. Teary-eyed, she holds it against her heart and thanks the unfamiliar guy for bringing it to her. She then turns back to the casket, leans in to place a tender kiss onto Zulema’s forehead before putting the picture back into the brunette’s pocket where it belongs.

After they have closed the casket and people have left a few flowers on top of it, including Macarena, it has all come to an end. A definite end. It was now time for her to go home and start healing. She just needed to figure out how…

* * *

  
Weeks pass by. The pain won’t leave. It’s been constantly aching within her chest since she arrived in Madrid and it felt like it was going to last a lifetime. Like an open wound that would never heal. Sometimes she had to think about the health of her baby to not have a total breakdown or cry until she felt completely dehydrated. Her little bump has started to show and is what keeps reminding her to take deep breaths. 

It felt like, not just a piece, but _half_ of her was missing. Even if she hadn’t been on good terms with Zulema the entire time, every year from the day they met, mattered. Memories are memories no matter if they’re good or bad and in the end there are only two kinds of people in your life: the ones who made an impression on you and the ones who didn’t. Zulema had without doubt made the biggest impact anyone had ever made on her and that was impossible to forget or deny. 

Speaking of not being able to forget, she couldn’t let go of the fact that Zulema never said any last words. Nothing that she could hold onto. Maybe she had expected too much. Maybe ‘last words’ were just something that happened on TV… She didn’t exactly know how to deal with the fact that there was no going back. That all this was written in stone, quite literally. 

She couldn't stop thinking of how Zulema wanted to stay, how she had finally felt at peace only to have all of it ripped away from her. It was just so unbelievably unfair. She was doing better. She was making an effort. She was being good, well, every now and then and she was starting to let her guard down for the first time in her life. 

She always felt like she knew Zulema as if they were a married couple, but the way she had changed over the years had made her realize that there was so much more left to explore; so much that was left untouched, but maybe that’s how she had wanted things to remain. 

“Maca…” Román gently calls from the doorway. Maca had been staring at a wall in the guest room for a concerning amount of time now and her brother knew she had a lot to process, but also that overthinking would make her feel even worse. She throws him a glance as if awoken from a dream, “Macarena and I made Tacos.” 

She offers him a smile,

“That’s so sweet,” she says, “But I’m not that hungry…”

Román sighs, his features revealing he’s not very content with her reply. Maca’s gaze falls to her hands and her fingers that are picking at her nails. He walks over and takes a seat next to her,

“It’s a big change, I know, but it’s for the better.” He reassures, “You don’t miss being a criminal, do you?” 

“No… not at all.” she shakes her head, eyes still on her fidgeting hands,

“No? The adrenaline? Camping?” He chuckles,

“No,” she mumbles. He frowns,

“Then… what’s wrong?” He asks, knowing emptiness and longing when he sees it. She had been lacking something since she arrived at his doorstep. Like something was missing.

“I miss _her.”_ She admits and it’s just a mere whisper. Román takes a few seconds to process the information. Apparently he hadn’t been prepared for it. 

“ _Zulema?_ ” He asks, as if it can’t be right. Maca doesn’t reply, “You miss the woman who’s the reason our parents got _murdered?”_ He reminds her, trying to wrap his head around it. Maca stays silent. 

“The person who killed your unborn baby and tried to kill you as well countless times?” He’s clearly starting to become a little upset knowing this had been the reason for her gloomy mood since she got back home, “The woman whose boyfriend we were forced to murder to save our own lives?” 

She listens but the only thing on Maca’s mind is the mornings she spent glancing at Zulema while she was fast asleep, tracing her features, counting her eyelashes and listening to her breathe…

“You don’t get it…” Maca mumbles.

“No, Macarena, _you_ don't get it. All she wanted was money, from the day you met her to the last. Wasn’t that what you guys were doing? Robbing jewelry shops and rich people? She needed you. She needed your help to do it. She never cared about you.”

All of what he said hurt but the last sentence sparked an anger within her that she couldn’t control,

“Don’t ever speak like that of something you don’t know _shit_ about! You didn’t know her and you don’t seem to know me either.” She growls and pushes herself off the bed.

“I _do_ know you, Maca. She may have tried to change you but I know the real you. The Macarena before prison and the one you will always be, deep down. The kind, gentle—”

“I’ve always been me, Román. I never changed. I evolved. I learned and I came out stronger than before. Being in there gave me confidence and courage, qualities I didn’t have before prison.” She snaps, “You may not appreciate it, but I couldn’t be happier with who I am today.” 

Román bites his cheek, hands placed on his hips. He doesn’t accept it. He doesn’t want it to be true.

“How many crimes have you committed and how many people have you killed because of that _hija de puta_ , huh? There’s no way the Maca I knew would do those things without someone encouraging, or even forcing, her to..!” 

“Well, perhaps you just never knew me.” The blonde states and Román suddenly raises his voice,

“She was a criminal, Maca. A _murderer!_ ”

“She was _family_ to me!” She yells, her voice on the verge of cracking.

“ _Vale.”_ He half-smiles sarcastically, “What did she do for you? Steal? Kill?”

“Actually, yes, and that’s more than most people would ever do.” She sneers, crossing her arms over her chest,

“So that’s what's important to you?” He asks, “That’s what makes you think she cared for you? That's why you considered her _family?_ ”

His sister scoffs. 

“How many times did she tell you that she loves you?” 

Macarena bites her tongue, hard. Not that. God, not that. That was the absolute last thing she wanted to be confronted with. She wants to reply but there’s nothing to say.

“I thought so.” He states, suddenly a lot calmer, “ _We_ are your family Maca. We love you and we’re always here for you, no matter what. _We_ love you, you know that.” 

“Yeah…” she mutters weakly. She really doesn’t have a comeback. Róman gets up and reaches out a hand towards her, 

“Come on. Let’s go eat.” He says, his voice annoyingly gentle. Maca involuntarily puts her hand in his and lets him pull her up from the bed before they head towards the kitchen. 

Little Macarena is already seated at the table, her eyes follow the two of them as they go to sit with her. It’s silent for at least five minutes before little Macarena opens her mouth, 

“Who is Zulema?” She asks. 

Both of them lift their gaze to look at her before looking at each other. She had clearly overheard part of their conversation. Román shakes his head but Maca ignores it,

“She was a very close friend of mine…” she begins. Using past tense while talking about her was still new to her and never ceased to tug at her heartstrings, “We used to live together.” 

“In prison?” The girl asks bluntly,

“Well… yeah. And after. We became roommates, I guess you could say.” She shrugs. 

“Where is she now?” She blinks and Macarena can’t help but sigh heavily. Her brother is about to interrupt but she gathers herself just in time to prevent him from speaking,

“She died.” She explains honestly, “But I’d like to believe she is in a better place now, though.” She smiles weakly.

“I’m sorry…” The little brunette frowns as she puts her fork down, more interested in Zulema than the food.

“Let’s eat before the food turns cold…” Román suggests, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. He didn’t want his daughter to have a twisted image of who Zulema was. At the same time he couldn’t exactly tell her the truth; that she was a murderer and the reason her grandparents were dead. Little Macarena proceeds to put some salsa atop her tacos but doesn’t stay quiet for long,

“What was she like?” She asks and Maca hears Román sigh next to her, clearly not liking this.

“She was… different. A little difficult, I guess.” She tilts her head and her brother scoffs,

“Indeed…” he mumbles. Maca rolls her eyes before continuing,

“She did a lot of questionable things, but she had humor and it was never boring with her.” She smiles, “she had good music taste and she was better than me at cooking. She liked reading and to stargaze, but I don’t think she’d ever admit that last one…” 

Macarena listens to her aunt attentively, intrigued by the description of this mysterious woman,

“She always looked prettier than me. Every day she wore perfectly made makeup and clothes, always heavily decorated with chains and belts, which she matched with bright yellow socks,” She chuckles, “She always stood up for me and I did the same for her… We made a great team even though we didn’t always agree.” 

“Do you have something of hers?” She asks curiously, on the verge of prying, but who could blame her? She was a kid.

“She gave me a camera for Christmas, I think it was the first gift she had ever given anyone and we took lots of silly pictures together, actually…” 

Román is now looking at her. She doesn’t notice, though. Something had changed in his eyes while he had been listening to her talk. The way she spoke like Zulema put the stars in her sky caught him off guard, considering the picture he had of the brunette. The younger girl grins,

“Can I see them?” 

“I don’t have them…” she mumbles sadly, “They’re still in the caravan, like the rest of her things. But I promise I’ll show you all of them and more once I have the guts to go back and get them.” 

“I’d love that!” The younger girl exclaims. 

“You would have liked her.” She half-whispers, sure of that she would have found her sassy comebacks and tantrums relatable. After all, those were things typical for a seven-year-old and Zulema didn’t always seem much older. 

After dinner, when Román has managed the dishes and Maca wiped the table, the younger girl disappears into her room for a skype call with a friend, leaving her father and aunt alone. 

“Hey,” 

Maca looks up. Her brother looks at her for a second,

“I don’t get it. I really don’t, but I understand that she... somehow changed during your time together that she meant a lot to you… Maybe more than you want to tell me.” He says and it comes as quite a surprise to Maca, “The way you talk about her is…” he stops to think, as if no word is quite enough to describe it, “... something else.” 

“She truly was something else.” Maca purses her lips. 

Román nods and a corner of his mouth curls. Maca smiles back. She understood and accepted that he never would be able to see her the way she did. It wasn’t very strange, after everything that had happened. 

“Do you wanna go back?” He suddenly asks. His sister looks puzzled, “To the caravan, I mean. I can drive you so you can collect those photos, think for a moment and perhaps clean it out if you feel like that would help you process.” He offers,

“Oh—“ the blonde wasn’t really prepared for that question. She didn’t even know if she was ready for all of that yet. Though, she did miss that place and she did want those photographs, “I… Yes. I would love that. She admits, gently. 

Later that afternoon, she steps out of the car and glances up at the caravan in the distance for the first time in two months. She wasn’t going to cry, not already. 

It looks just like it did when they left it. When they left this place together. She hadn’t been here since then. The last time she was here, she made those little food pyramids to remind Zulema of Egypt because she missed it and to simply cheer her up. Zulema had cleaned the roof but it was now dirty again, as if she never made it sparkle the way she did that day. The trampoline was covered in leaves and so were their two deckchairs, their favorite spot to which they often went to stargaze.

This caravan was now nothing but a shell of the home it once had been. Without Zulema, it had nothing left to offer. There was nothing about an empty caravan that made her feel like home. 

“Will you come back for me later? I think I’m gonna need a couple of hours…” Maca asks, leaning into the car on the passenger side. Róman nods understandingly and she closes the door before he restarts the engine. 

She walks around the corner to climb the ladder when something shiny to her left catches her eye. She turns her head only to find Zulema’s chain still hanging from the window. Her eyes can’t let it go once they spot it but it’s as if she cannot process the emotions and the pain the memory brings her. It just doesn’t hit her. She doesn’t feel a _thing_. 

She climbs the ladder and kicks every leaf in her way. She wastes no time grieving over the two chairs, but folds them up and brings them down with her before she yanks the ladder away from the wall. She puts everything in a pile on the ground next to the couch before she pulls out the keys from her pocket and unlocks the door. 

She steps inside. Everything looks just the way they left it on this side of the walls as well. But this time it hits her. All her senses at once. It was as if someone pressed play; like her emotions had been paused for several weeks. She could almost hear Zulema hum in one of the corners of the small space and smell the cigarette smoke that used to seep in through the windows standing slightly ajar. 

She closes the door behind her. The nostalgia is almost making her head spin and she doesn’t know whether she wants to escape or never leave this place ever again. It was a bittersweet feeling, that much she knew. 

She finds the little polaroid pictures on the counter where she left them the day Zulema went off with the camera and she posed in front of it. The photos were silly, most of them blurry, yet this little pile of photos were one of the most precious belongings she had ever owned. She picks them up and puts them in her pocket, not ready to look all of them through just yet, and walks over to the seating area, that’s currently turned into a bed. On the wall, above where the couch usually is, there were lockers where they kept all their clothes and Macarena couldn’t help but open the ones that had been Zulema’s. 

Her locker was crammed with clothes, possibly every garment she had ever owned, and they still smelled just like her. Maca carefully starts pulling them out one by one and absentmindedly drops them onto the sheets below, creating a messy, mostly black pile. The only reason she wasn’t having a complete breakdown yet, was because she knew that if she does she won’t be able to stop and she won’t be able to finish cleaning out this caravan, which really needed to be done. 

All the socks, underwear and pants are spread out on the bed. Only shirts and hoodies left to go. It all flows pretty well until she gets to specific garments that are too familiar not to give some extra attention to. She pulls out a hoodie decorated with flames, a blue bodysuit with a tattoo-like pattern and a sweater with Elsa printed on the front. “Fearless” was written across the last one.

She really was fearless. Not in the sense of not being afraid, but doing things _despite_ the fear. Facing what scared her. It was something Maca thought was insane and reckless at first, but that she grew to admire when she learned where it originated from and why. She was fearless because she had nothing to lose, and even when she did, she was smart enough to realize that loss was inevitable no matter how she lived her life. 

Fear was useless, so she remained that way; Fearless. 

Maca drops down onto the bed and stares into the void ahead of her. She was feeling nauseous from holding it all back so desperately. It was as if she could feel Zulema’s presence even though she wasn’t there. All the things that reminded her of the brunette made it impossible to believe that she was actually gone. There were so many things in there that she didn’t want to touch because Zulema had been the last person to touch them and she wanted it to stay that way. She didn’t want the smell of her to leave this place. _Their_ place.

She curls up, buries her face in the sweater clutched in her hands and finally lets a sob ripple through her body. What’s even the point in holding back? It wasn’t like the pain was going to go away faster or hurt any less by suppressing it. It wasn’t as if she would never stop crying, even though it felt like it in the moment. Another sob. She had to. She just had to let it out. Her chest ached too much. 

The brunette’s scent created such vivid images of her being right beside her that realizing she wasn’t, was like losing her all over again. As if the whole thing was just on loop like some horrible nightmare. 

Her tears flow freely now. She doesn’t care anymore. She doesn’t care about anything but _her._ It wasn’t worth trying to stay sane. She _wasn’t_ sane and hadn’t been for weeks. She was no doubt going _in_ sane. 

Shakily, she moves over to what used to be Zulema’s side of the bed and runs a hand over the soft fabric of the pillow. There were a couple black strands of hair resting upon it and the sight of them made her heart ache even worse. There was not a thing in here that _didn’t_ remind her of Zulema. 

She grabs a hold of the pillow to hug it tightly, but as she does so, she feels something hard inside of it. She looks at it and turns it over. There’s something tucked inside the pillowcase. With tears in her eyes, she sneaks her hand into it and pulls out a notebook. She observes the cover for a moment. There’s really nothing special about it. It’s black and the corners are golden. She opens it and flips through some pages. There are only a few of them that have been written on, the rest of them are blank. She goes back to the beginning and the first thing she reads catches her attention, 

  
  


_Macarena,_

_I will never do this again because my handwriting is shit and letters are outdated but if for some reason, at some point, I don’t come back home, there are a few things I want you to know and you know that expressing myself verbally is not my strongest suit…_

Maca’s heart starts pounding. She had tried so hard to accept the fact that she would never hear Zulema’s voice or hear her say anything ever again and now it was suddenly as if she spoke to her anew and she did absolutely not expect a handwritten letter left behind for her to find. She takes a deep, weavering breath and carries on reading,

_When we met, I hated your guts. I wanted to strangle the life out of you every day for years. Honestly, I think I hated you more than necessary. Like an obsession of sorts. In prison, time always stood still. I felt like I always had too much of it. I had time to hate you for quite some time before I realized that it was not actually hate. You made me feel so many things at the same time that I did not know how to handle it. I did not know if I wanted to help you or kiss you, or kill you all the same._

_You still do. Make me feel too much, I mean. Although, I am not confused anymore. I know we could have it all. I know that we’re just three little words away but I am scared. I am scared this will make it difficult to die._

Maca’s breath hitches. The gunshots echoing inside her head. Another sob ripples through her body and she has to shut her eyes closed for a moment and gather herself to be able to carry on reading,

_And I am in fact dying. I cannot stop it and I am starting to understand that it won’t be as easy as I thought it would be; as it would have been years ago._

_Before you, I laughed death in the face. I have been face to face with the reaper more than once and all those times, I was ready. Now I’m not. And it terrifies me. I’m not done here. We just got started. This was supposed to be a beginning but this cancer has turned it into the opposite…_

_I keep wishing for more time. A miracle, I guess. I know that it sounds absurd, but I keep hoping I get to see your daughter. I hope I get to experience my first grey hairs even though I know I will hate them and dye them back to black. I hope I will gather the courage to tell you what I feel before I die. But karma got me good so I don’t think fate has that in store for me. I’m pretty sure I don’t deserve to have any of that after all that I have done._

Maca places a hand on her belly and tugs at her shirt, the fabric crumpling inside her fist. She wishes she could have met her too and that they could have experienced their first grey hairs _together…_

_It’s ironic, really. I’ve spent all my life thinking I could have everything I wanted if I just tried hard enough. I have broken through prison walls, yet I am too weak to break through the ones I’ve built around myself. The ones we have built between us. I want to; I’m fighting constantly, but we built them on promises meant to last.  
_ _This barrier is indestructible because we believed it was for the best and now it’s too late to realize that we were wrong. Even if we succeed, we have already lost._

 _I’d like to believe that in the end, knowing that we only lied to each other because of pride and fear, will bring us peace somehow. That the truth was always the truth, just merely unspoken.  
_ _I have always felt like words are never needed with you; that you see through my lies and distant behavior and can read me like an open book even when I’m silent. Maybe it’s selfish, but I hope I am right. I hope you knew I never disliked you the way I made it seem. I hope you knew that me pushing you away was just me being unfamiliar with affection. I don’t know how to love very well. I never learned, before you._

She was right. Maca knew that she simply wanted to be understood because she never was before they met and that’s what made her this way. It was selfish, but it wasn’t her fault.

_I am writing this in present tense but if you ever find this, chances that I’m still alive are very slim. I will most likely keep this hidden from you until I simply can’t._

Maca takes her eyes off the text once more. It hurts too much to go on but she will do it nonetheless, because these words were everything she never said, every confession that she thought she had taken to the grave, when in reality she had put them all inside a pillowcase in their home.

_Whatever happens, all I ask of you is that you love your daughter like every day is the last._ _Life is fragile and time is limited. Trust me, I know._

A tear now rolls down her face, two, three… 

_You asked me once if I’m afraid. I said, no._

_But the truth is I’m terrified. I lived my whole life thinking I was fearless but dying is different. I don’t want to die. I love to be alive; I love my freedom. And therefore I want you to know that these past months have been some of the best of my life. You have made me feel truly free. You gave me a home. You taught me about love. You have made me feel like I actually mattered while I was here; like I’ll be remembered and honestly, that has made me feel like maybe I have fulfilled my purpose._ _Maybe it was always you._

_I love you and I hope that you always knew, because I will never swallow my pride and tell you, Puta Rubia._

_Hasta que la muerte nos separe._

_/ Zulema_

  
She knew. She always knew. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you from the bottom of my heart for reading my version of their goodbye. It’s been quite emotionally draining to write this one, though necessary for me in order to process the end of Vis a Vis and canon ending of El Oasis.  
> I hope this version, unlike the canon one, brought you some kind of peace after all. 🤍 xx

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!  
> Feedback is always appreciated! xx


End file.
